Budapest
by tokyolove
Summary: Love isn't something that both Natasha and Clint can claim to feel. But after Loki has done his damage, can the two adjust to the relationship they both know they're in? Especially when things keep coming out of the woodwork to tear them apart. Clintasha. Movieverse with a hint of comicverse thrown in for good measure. Rated T for safety.
1. Prologue, part 1

This is my first Avengers fanfiction and I'm writing it for NaNoWriMo 2012. It's a work in progress, though updates will be frequent.

It's Clintasha centric, but the other Avengers will feature throughout.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers. If I did there would be a Clintasha movie already.

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"_Agent Barton was sent to kill me. He made a different call."_

She was screaming. The sound was ear splitting, so deafening and high pitched that the man watching, hidden up high in the dark rafters, was sure that had there been any glass in the windows it would have shattered. He watched the events unfolding below with a frown on his face. She shouldn't be screaming.

He had memorized her file and Clint Barton never missed a detail. The file had stated, several times in fact, that Natalia Alianova Romanova had been conditioned to deal with extreme torture, without it affecting her. From what he could see, and his eyesight was better than perfect, the man inflicting the torture on the redheaded woman, who was tied tightly to a chair in her underwear, wasn't very good at it. She should have barely flinched if her file was true.

Then again, government files of people like Natalia were never usually true. Working for a secret government agency had taught him that first hand. Anyone could become whoever he or she wanted to be at the click of a button. Histories were created, they were written instantly into society as though they had been there for their whole lives.

The man below dropped the blade he had been using onto the dirty floor. It glinted in the shafts of light created by an old candlelit chandelier that was swinging precariously from the roof. Barton could see the familiar sticky coating on the sharp weapon, the red blood just as red as Natalia's flaming hair. She had stopped screaming.

Words were being said in Russian, but they were far too muffled for him to hear clearly. Unfortunately his hearing wasn't as perfect as his eyesight. Letting the conversation continue on the floor below him, Barton reached behind himself. He drew an arrow from the quiver on his back and strung it onto his bow with experienced and practiced ease. The tip was razor sharp, it could slice through flesh and bone with no difficulty at all, nothing would stop it. Raising his arms, the archer took aim. The only warning the man beneath the rafters had was the moment the arrow pierced the middle of his eye, ripping through his brain and killing him instantly. He dropped in front of the Russian girl, who was looking around desperately trying to figure out where the arrow had come from.

She wasn't worried or scared, and she didn't fear for her own safety. The Black Widow never felt fear and nor was she ever worried. Useless emotions such as those had been stamped out of her years ago. She was just curious as to who else was here, as no one from the Room knew how to fire an arrow with such precision. Natalia didn't have long to wait before she found out. A man jumped from above her, landing with more deadly accuracy in front of where she was sat. He stood tall over her, holding a bow: the arrow was pointed directly in between her eyes. He was trying to intimidate her and she knew it, it was something she did to people all the time. But he was failing. Natalia wasn't scared to die.

She was regretful, yes. If now was her time to go then she would accept that, but she would be disappointed for all of the things that she never got to experience. A bitter laugh left her lips at that thought. What experiences would an assassin whose ledger was pouring with blood ever need to have? She was nothing more than a killing machine and now, as she faced death, she was prepared to accept that.

Clint faltered a little, as she gave no reaction at all. She was just staring – not at the arrow, but directly into his eyes. The eye contact was never ending; it was almost a little unnerving. He couldn't understand why she wasn't pleading for her life like so many other marks he had taken care of had. There was a man in Rome a few months ago who had burst into tears and kissed Clint's feet, begging for his life to be spared. An arrow had put a stop to the noise, but it had been a merciful killing at least. Quick and as painless as possible was how Clint liked to do them, unless it granted otherwise. He was the complete opposite of the Black Widow who sat before him.

He remembered how sick he had felt upon reading her file. The amount of blood she had unnecessarily spilled was shocking; so many innocents had been slaughtered. The ones who had been named were the ones that had been the hardest to accept. Children had died because of her, the youngest child on her record was ten months old, and it was as though she didn't seem to care. If she cared then she wouldn't continue murdering people who didn't deserve such an early death. At least, that was Clint's reasoning.

He could also argue that he was just as bad as her. But he only killed the people that he had to kill. Right now, his mark was the woman right in front of him and he was planning on finishing the job and going home with Russia's best assassin on his body count. People at SHIELD would be in awe. Natalia was infamous in the underground circuit of killers, so having her death on his hands would be a trophy. He might even get the promotion he desperately wanted.

"Kill me then."

The quiet voice brought him out of his thoughts and he realized he had yet to release the arrow. He had been planning on making her death as dramatic as possible, one where she would die slowly and painfully, to make up for the deaths of those she had caused. He hadn't expected her to talk though.

"Well, are you going to or not?"

She almost sounded impatient. Clint frowned. Was she wishing for her own death? Accepting that this was the end for her?

The more he looked at her, the more he found himself hesitating. When he had been reading her file he had only envisaged a hardened assassin. He had never pictured a girl such as this one. She was younger than he had first thought – SHIELD had never been able to establish her age, yet Clint had figured she at least had to be in her thirties to atone for the amount of killings she had done – perhaps no older than twenty. Her long red hair hung in thick wavy curls, framing her pale heart shaped face. Her eyes were large and green, yet they held no emotion in them; they refused to let him see beyond. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, then Natalia had drawn the curtains a long time ago and there was no one home. Her lips were full and had remnants of pale pink lipstick, mixed in with blood which had come from both her split lip and her dripping nose.

"Fuck."

Natalia frowned, for the first time showing some sort of emotion or feeling. Her expression was akin to confusion, as she couldn't understand why he was cursing and why he hadn't shot her yet.

She was even more confused when he lowered his arrow.

"No, Coulson I can't do this."

He had his hand up to his ear. Natalia knew he had a communicator. She was a spy after all and used similar equipment on a daily basis.

"She's just a kid! She's just a beaten up kid who doesn't deserve to die like this."

He was clearly arguing with someone. Someone called Coulson. Perhaps it was his superior, although Natalia couldn't understand why he would argue with authority. If she dared to speak to her superiors in such a manner, or disobey an order, she would be punished with, perhaps, a week of intensive electro-therapy in order to cure her of the need to argue. That was, at least, what had happened to one of the girls in her class. The blonde girl had never argued again after that.

His bow had been lowered throughout the entire one-sided conversation. There was no longer an arrow threatening to pierce her skull and impale her brain. The body of the man she had been working on, an arms dealer by the name of Ivan Vissarionovich, lie in a heap on the floor. Blood was still dripping from the wound in his eye. If she had been the one to kill him, as planned, she wouldn't have been so forgiving. He would have suffered. She had been thinking of shooting him a couple of times, making it so he didn't die instantly but instead had the pleasure of bleeding to death over a matter of hours. Perhaps even days, she didn't have to be anywhere anytime soon. She would have tortured him slowly and kept him in agonizing pain. He had deserved it.

Clint stepped out of Natalia's line of vision, moving behind her and began to untie her bonds. She started a little at the brief contact of flesh brushing over flesh as he worked on the tight rope, but she had her emotionless wall back up in seconds. She heard him wince and slowly drew her arms around to see the damage for herself. Her wrists were swollen and purple from heavy bruising. They hadn't started to bleed properly yet, but the skin had been rubbed raw from her constant writhing against the harsh rope. Her ankles were in a similar state.

Slowly, she rose from the chair, noticing that Clint had hurriedly drawn his bow again at her movements. She debated shooting him and running, but he had her curious. All the killers she had ever met never refused to kill somebody. It just wasn't how it worked in their job. If a kill order was made then it was carried out no matter what. Natalia raised her arms while hiding a grimace at the pain it caused, and held them up above her head. She wanted to show him that she wasn't a threat and that she wasn't going to kill him. Of course, she expected him to still be cautious. He obviously knew who she was, so she assumed he knew her reputation as well. It wasn't a good one.

There was a tense silence as they both stood completely rooted to the spot. His arrow was pointed at her, once again in a direct kill shot, just in case she made any sudden attempts to take him down.

He was surprised by her height. He had imagined the Black Widow to be bigger, taller and more imposing, not the slight young girl who stood before him. She was roughly a head shorter than him. Her face was still that of a teenager verging on adulthood, although it seemed older sometime. Older than her time was an expression that fit the Black Widow perfectly. Clint was sure that she had seen and done far more than anyone her age would never have dreamed of doing.

"How old are you?" He didn't lower his bow.

"Nineteen."

Natalia lowered her arms and Clint watched her carefully, before realising that she was only moving to press down on her left side. His estimate of her age had been spot on and he hated that he was right. A child of nineteen shouldn't be one of the most feared assassins in Eastern Europe.

Coulson was screaming down the earpiece, telling Clint to kill her and get out of there. Clint just lowered his bow and pulled the ear piece out, letting the communicator hang limply from its wire.

"Natalia, I'm going to make you a proposition, and then I'm getting you some medical attention."

He ignored her quiet protest of 'I'm fine', knowing she wasn't. He could see the blood slowly oozing from the deep knife wound in her side, the smell of iron strong in the air.

"I want you to work for SHIELD."

The girl raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She just stared at the man as though he had lost his mind. She had been told of SHIELD, been told of how they were one of her many enemies. They were American, therefore Russia were against them. It was just how things were.

But Natalia had been having doubts for the last year, ever since her last reprogramming session. It hadn't reset her mind completely, so she still had small snippets of who she had once been in her head. One night, when she had been alone in her room at the compound, she had thought back to the memories she had of ballet dancing. She could clearly remember being one of the best ballet students in her class and could see herself doing positions and dance steps that only advanced dancers could do. Yet when she had stood at her mirror and tried to replicate what he had seen, her body just couldn't do it. That was when her suspicions over the truth had first appeared. She no longer trusted anyone, as who knew if what they said to her had any truth to it. She didn't like being taken for a fool.

Just because the Red Room was lying to her didn't mean that she should defect to the enemy though.

She hadn't realised she had been silent for slightly too long. Clint's voice brought her out of her head.

"Name's Clint Barton. I also go by Hawkeye. I know your record inside out and we could use someone with talents like yours."

What talents? That was her first thought - she killed people for a living, mercilessly and with pleasure. Why would SHIELD have a use for someone like her? Then again, she was very good at what she did, she was the best of the best in the Red Room, hence the title of Black Widow. The Black Widow was the best 'student' that came out of the academy and the girl who was granted that title kept it until she was taken down. Natalia had been the Black Widow for the last five years. She wasn't planning on giving it up any time soon.

Her superiors were surprised sometimes, when she would return from what had been deemed suicide missions with only a broken arm or a sprained ankle. Her body below her clothes was always battered and scarred, bruising in various shades of purple. She could run her fingers over every raised mark and tell the story of exactly how it happened. Death had never been something she had considered… until now.

If she went with Clint, defected from her country and joined SHIELD, then she would live another day. If she chose otherwise, Natalia was sure he wouldn't hesitate to plant an arrow into her skull. She knew he good at what he did. After all, he had sent an arrow straight through the pupil of the eye of the man who she had been waiting to dispose of, with no difficulty at all and from a distance too.

Life or death. It was a decision she had always imagined herself having to make, but she had never actually thought she would find herself having to choose. In her mind she saw herself choosing death, dying true to her country. Some other poor girl would take over the role of the Black Widow and the world would keep spinning, with no memory of a Natalia Romanova ever existing. Now that she was thinking about it though, the Black Widow didn't want to die.

"So what do you say? SHIELD can give you a fresh start, a clean slate. We can wipe out that red on your ledger."

His words hit her harder than she would have liked them to. She hated her ledger. It was gushing with red. She remembered every innocent victim she had been forced to take, the lives that would never get completed all because of her. She wasn't careful and killed whomever she had to in order to get the job done, that was how the Red Room liked it. But Natalia hated it.

"My ledger is dripping with red…" Her voice was quiet – barely a whisper. Clint could hear it shake. He could feel how ashamed and guilty she felt. The killer that had been described in her file would never have felt guilty, yet here she was. By now his bow was folded up and the arrow was settled back in his quiver. He wasn't going to kill her. He couldn't.

Natalia Alianova Romanova wasn't the heartless murderer that SHIELD thought she was and he was going to help her see that.

"So come with me."

He held out his hand in a kind gesture, hoping she would take it. She didn't move, she just stared at it with a mixture of apprehension and confusion on her petite features.

"You can help me wash the red away?"

Her words were still small and her voice had taken on an almost pleading tone. She now sounded like the child she still was and Clint wanted to destroy whoever it was that had made her do the things she had done. A nineteen year old shouldn't be stood in a freezing warehouse in her underwear; a stab wound slowly drizzling blood down her left leg and over her hand that was desperately pressing down to stop the flow.

"Yes. We'll get rid of it."

Natalia wasn't sure what it was that convinced her. She was very good at reading people and Clint was different to anyone she had ever met before. Everyone in her life had always been cold and calculating and just as heartless as her. No one had ever shown her kindness. She was sure her parents had, but she couldn't remember a thing about them. The man stood before her, offering his hand, wanted to help. He wasn't doing it to lure her anywhere. He just genuinely cared. It was that which convinced her to step forward and take the hand that outstretched to her.

Clint smiled and began to lead her to doorway where the SHIELD operatives were waiting. He could already see Coulson stood just beyond the building and he didn't look happy. For once, Clint didn't care about how the situation was going to blow up in his face. He felt accomplished because he was helping a new life to start instead of taking it away.

He stopped walking when he felt Natalia flinch and pull her hand away from his. Her gun, which he hadn't seen her grab on the way out, was drawn and pointing at as many SHIELD agents as she could, constantly moving to cover as many marks as possible. For a moment Clint thought that she had been lying to him and had been planning to double cross him all along, although he realized he was wrong when he noticed the problem.

All of the SHIELD agents had their guns trained on the Russian girl who stood beside him. They had been sent here to kill her, under orders that no matter what, she shouldn't be allowed to make it out alive. Clint protectively stepped in front of her; turning his back to the agents and reaching out to the girl he was saving. He took her gun from her shaking hands and dropped it to the floor, kicking it over to Coulson who picked it up and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket.

"_Natalia, no one is going to hurt you. They're just following orders and they answer to me. I won't let them hurt you."_

She was surprised by his use of her native language. The familiar tones of the Russian dialect calmed her shaking body that had jumped into its defensive mechanism automatically. He was glad she hadn't pulled the trigger on anyone; otherwise she certainly wouldn't be standing right now.

He nodded to Coulson, who ordered everyone to stand down. They were taking the Black Widow in but Clint made sure she wasn't to be treated as a prisoner. She was a guest of his. Nick Fury wasn't going to be happy and he was sure the Counsel wouldn't be either, but right now he just didn't care. He had promised this girl a fresh start and he was going to make sure she got it. Reluctantly the SHIELD agents lowered their weapons and allowed Clint and Natalia to pass.

Taking her hand once again, Clint gently tugged her over to one of the waiting black cars. It was a large off-road vehicle that was perfect at coping with the snow covered Russian roads. He rummaged in the back for a few moments before pulling out a warm, waterproof coat. It was too big for her slight frame but it would keep her warm. He also had some track pants and a shirt for her, not wanting to leave her to freeze in her lacy underwear, but he didn't give them to her yet. There was a medical vehicle parked beside the off-road one and he motioned to it. Natalia grimaced and climbed inside. She was apprehensive of being treated by any medical staff. For all she knew – and she had been trained to be vigilant of this possibility – they were going to finish her off with some unknown drug.

It wasn't like the mobile medical units that the Red Room used. Theirs were stark white, sterile and terrifyingly eerie. They had the stench of death and doctors who couldn't care less whether a patient lived or died. They were associated with pain and torture, so Natalia avoided them at all costs. This one was different and she visibly relaxed slightly when she saw it. There was one medic sat inside, wearing a field uniform with some throwaway scrubs on top to keep her uniform clean. Her black hair was tied back in a relaxed ponytail and she gave Natalia a warm smile instead of an evil grin. Clint climbed in and sat on the seat beside the medic, nodding to Natalia as an indication for her to sit back on the chair in the middle of the slightly cramped space.

She refused to relax completely as she lay back on the padded chair. It was similar in style to the type of chair found in a dentist's office and was a light purple colour. She kept her green eyes locked on Clint's as the medic began to treat the various cuts and bruises that could be found. It wasn't until the medic gasped that both Natalia and Clint turned away from one another to see what the problem was.

The medic had lifted the coat covering Natalia away, revealing the deep stab wound on the young girl's side. Natalia gritted her teeth as an antiseptic was applied, hissing slightly at the sting. When the medic began to stitch her up, she didn't even flinch. Clint was impressed at her tolerance for pain. If it were him in that chair he would be screaming swear words in every language he knew. She just gritted her teeth and let the medic get on with it.

"Make sure you take her to the medibay after she's been cleared by security. It's a deep knife wound, I want an X-ray to make sure nothing vital is damaged." The medic directed her words at Clint rather than Natalia, probably because she knew that Natalia wouldn't take any notice and would probably maim her. Everyone on SHIELD knew about the Black Widow and her reputation. Clint just nodded in response.

She didn't react to anything until the medic reached for a needle. She saw the sharp point out of the corner of her eye and before the medic could even test the plunger, Natalia had launched herself from the seat and had the medic pinned underneath her. Her hands were wrapped around her throat, her knee in the woman's gut, and she was squeezing slowly to cut off airflow. The woman was choking underneath the Russian and the needle was forgotten on the floor, the vial cracked and the liquid inside now dripping out.

Clint was off his seat faster than he had realized he could actually move. His arms wrapped around Natalia, one around her torso – preventing her from moving her arms at all – and one around her neck. Not tight enough to cause her any breathing problems but tight enough to stop her from wriggling free from his grasp. She fought him as much as she could, but he was stronger.

"Natalia! Stop!"

She tried to tilt her head down with the intention of biting his arm, but he shifted his body to lean back in a way that refused her to get leverage to sink her teeth into his skin.

"No one is going to hurt you."

She was cursing and screaming in infuriated Russian, her voice dropping an octave or two when speaking her native tongue and an accent began to make itself known. Clint smirked at how it just seemed to fit her as she continued thrashing and kicking in the cramped space. His grip tightened ever so slightly and he just held her until she had no fight left, the medic having sat back up and grabbed another needle. While Natalia was preoccupied with getting away from Clint, the needle had slipped into the exposed skin of her arm. He kept his hold on her for a few more minutes, slowly letting his grip loosen as her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell limp against him.

It was just a sedative. He lifted her off of the floor of the vehicle and settled her on the chair. Reluctantly he pulled up some leather restraints from underneath, locking her arms and ankles down. It was a standard procedure for anyone deemed dangerous to either themselves or others and after what had just happened he knew it had to be done. He couldn't help but feel bad about it though and just prayed they reached base before she woke up. That way, she wouldn't have to know. He meant what he said about them not hurting her and he didn't want his words to seem like a lie.

He turned to the medic. The badge on her jacket, peeking out from under the throwaway scrubs, said that her name was Anneliese.

"You okay?"

The girl nodded, still visibly shaken. Clint offered her a sympathetic smile.

"Yeah. Just… didn't expect that. I've never had that reaction from a patient before."

But then again, with a patient as volatile as Natalia Romanova, who knew what to expect.

"From where she's come from, needles are something to be avoided. She just didn't understand you were trying to help."

Anneliese nodded again.

"It was a painkiller. Nothing dangerous."

"I know."


	2. Prologue, part 2

Here's part 2 of the prologue. I hope you like it. I'm writing chapter 3 right now, so that will hopefully be up soon.

Disclaimer: Still don't own the Avengers.

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They arrived back to the nearest SHIELD base, which was hidden somewhere on the outskirts of Minsk, eight hours later. Now in Belarus, the Russians didn't have jurisdiction to take Natalia back. Clint was certain that at soon as the Red Room realized she was missing, if they hadn't already, then they would send someone after them. He very much doubted that they would just write her off as dead.

Natalia was still unconscious when they arrived, her chest rising and falling slowly as she slept. Anneliese gave a full report of the assassin's injuries to the medibay team, who were more than surprised to be receiving a patient, let alone the feared Black Widow. They whisked her away for a full examination, leaving Clint stood in the corridor, facing the wrath of Phil Coulson. He was certain though that he would much rather have Coulson screaming at him instead of Fury. Nick Fury was going to be pissed.

He decided to butter Coulson up before talking to him by bringing him a steaming cup of his favourite coffee. When Coulson appeared beside him, folders in his arms, Clint shoved the polystyrene cup to him and mumbled:

"I'm sorry."

Phil only smirked in response, causing Clint to raise an eyebrow. He was sure Phil would have exploded on him for defying orders, especially when the order was so important.

"Stop smirking at me… why are you smirking? It's disturbing and really creepy!"

Phil just laughed and sipped on the coffee, sighing an 'ah' as the warm caffeinated drink trickled down his throat.

"I spoke to Fury, that's why."

Clint gulped. And?

"While he's not happy with you, and neither is the Counsel, he's not going to kill you or fire you. He's actually very interested in the girl and in your idea to recruit her."

Clint's body visibly relaxed. He would live to see another day at least.

"When she's cleared by the medical team he wants to speak to her."

"Personally?"

"Yep. I'll be watching, though purely from the entertainment value of Fury getting his ass handed to him by a teenager. I'm certain she won't say a word to him without a fight."

The archer nodded and offered his own smirk. It would be very amusing to see his boss get beaten up by her. Clint himself had struggled to hold her back, and while Fury was bigger and made of muscle, he was older and not as well trained. He wouldn't stand a chance.

"Although I'm positive Fury said something about you being in there too. I think he's taking precautions after what happened in the medivan."

Clint frowned. How had he known about that incident? The medic wasn't authorized to be in the same room as him, let alone let him know about how the Black Widow had snapped. As if reading his mind, Coulson shrugged.

"Surveillance tapes. He was watching everything the whole time. He told me to tell you good job at keeping her from killing that poor medic… Anneliese, was it?"

Clint wordlessly nodded. Coulson clapped him on his back, handed him two folders and walked off down the corridor, leaving him stood there waiting. He didn't have any injuries to take care of, so he wandered back to the coffee machine and got himself a rather disgusting black coffee. He dumped four packets of sugar into it and shuffled over to a plastic seat just outside of the room Natalia had been taken into. He gave up on drinking the coffee after just two sips and resorted to stirring it constantly with one of the little wooden rods. He amused himself by wondering about how many different ways Natalia could kill him with said little wooden rod. He was certain she could be pretty inventive.

The folders were sat on the chair beside him and he picked them up, flicking through. He smiled at what he saw inside before closing them and picking up the coffee again. He went back to stirring silently.

It was another hour before the door opened in front of him and a doctor came out. The green scrubs he wore were spotted with bright red blood, but his expression didn't read 'seriously injured' or 'death'. Clint stood from his seat, chucking the now cold coffee into the bin beside the chair.

"Romanova is fine. The stab wound wasn't too much of a problem as no major organs were damaged internally. The issue was that we found a number of hidden trackers on her person. We removed them and have sent them to the lab for switching off and analysis."

"Can I see her?"

"Sure. She's just waking up now, go on in." Clint was certain he heard him mutter under his breath as he passed. "Good luck."

Inside the room, Natalia was beginning to stir from where she rested on one of the medical beds. She was still restrained and Clint closed the door behind him, not moving from edge of the room until he was certain she was coherent enough not to fly into a vicious rage. He held the files in his arms and just waited for her eyes to meet his.

"What did they do?"

Her words were direct and straight to the point. He didn't expect anything less from her.

"Patched up your side and took out a load of hidden trackers. I'm not sure where they were hidden but they got them all out. Russia won't know where you are anymore."

She looked pleased. At least, Clint assumed. She wasn't exactly the type to show emotions, he had figured that out already.

"Good."

He nodded in agreement; glad she was happy to be away from Russia. At first he had thought that defection wasn't going to be easy for the assassin, considering she worked for the government and was willing to die for her country. He had never even considered that she wasn't doing it willingly.

"Can you undo these?" She motioned with her head to the restraints secured tightly around her wrists and ankles.

"Only if you promise not to kill me." His words were light and teasing. He knew she wouldn't.

He got a smirk in return and took her answer as a yes she wasn't going to kill him. He walked over, the files now under his arm, and unstrapped her from the bed. She sat up, wincing quietly at the dull ache that was starting to make itself known through the painkillers.

"I'm sorry about earlier… in the van. I'm just used to something bad happening whenever anyone sticks a needle in me."

Clint nodded. He had thought as much.

"Don't worry about it. She's okay and I explained to her that you couldn't help it. But I've decided that I'm taking it upon myself to get that way of thinking out of your head. You will learn to love the painkiller shots they'll give you."

She only gave him a small smile in response. He moved to sit beside her on the edge of the bed, taking the files back in his hands.

"What are those?"

Up close, the Black Widow wasn't nearly as terrifying as he had first thought. Her pale skin matched the stark white bed sheets and her hospital gown perfectly; her red hair was mussed and stuck up. She was small and vulnerable and looked like the teenager she was. Legally her age said that she was an adult, but looking at her now he refused that idea. She was nothing more than a child who had been forced to grow up far too quickly. She was too mature for her age. Her voice when she asked him what the files were had been quiet and had a touch of nervousness to it, it was almost as though she had been too scared to ask the question.

"Your files. Well, your old one," He held one up, "and your new one!" He held up the other one. She frowned in confusion and he simply handed the first one to her.

She opened it up and saw the print out of her profile. Her name, age and all her stats were present and correct. It was missing a photo. The one thing that threw her was the big red letters stamped across the page.

Deceased.

"But I'm not dead?"

Clint's face lit up in a grin that spread from one side of his face to the other. It was contagious and she wanted to smile back, but she didn't. She just waited for him to explain.

"That's where you're wrong. Natalia Romanova is now dead, but," He handed her the other file and watched as she opened it, "Natasha Romanoff isn't. Welcome to SHIELD."

They were giving her a new identity. Inside was a file with all of the same information as the previous one. The only difference was a few of the details. Her name was now Natasha Romanoff, her age had been verified and her status had changed from 'threat' to 'agent'. She was getting a fresh start with no strings attached. There were no crazy scientists wanting to wipe her memory and no one forcing her to kill her friends. She wasn't going to be alone anymore, she was going to be accepted somewhere.

All of this new information made the Russian's head spin (though she was certain the drugs they had given her had a part in that too). Turning to Clint, all she could do was grab hold of him tight. Clint tensed, thinking she was changing her mind and ready to maim him in some way, but when he realized her actions were no more than a simple hug, he returned the gesture.

"Spasibo." Thank you.

Clint smiled.

"Pozhaluysta." You're welcome.

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If you enjoyed it, or if you want to criticise it, then type something in the box below. I'll keep updating regardless, but feedback is nice!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so much for all of the reviews! And the amount of favourites and follows have been mindblowing! I'm so glad you all like it. Here's chapter 3.

Disclaimer: I wish I owned the Avengers, but I don't.

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Natasha scowled as she sat on the edge of the bed. She was dressed in a pair of grey track pants and a baggy blue shirt, which was courtesy of Clint's wardrobe, and she was growing impatient. Clint had been in the bathroom for the last hour and she was ready to just kick the door down and berate him for being no better than a stubborn child.

"If I hear one more curse from you then I'll kick the door down! Don't think that I won't!"

She heard him chuckle. He knew full well that she would and it wouldn't be the first time.

"I'm almost done Nat."

"You had better be. I want to go to bed."

She hadn't bothered trying to get to sleep with him still in the other room. She knew he was patching up his injuries and that he was being too 'macho' to let her do it for him. There was no way she would be able to sleep without knowing he was okay and that he didn't need her help, so she remained where she was.

The door opened with a click and Natasha's head looked up to glance at it.

"Oh Clint… come here." She got up and stepped over to him, gently taking his hand in hers, inspecting the damage to his knuckles. It was his left hand and with him being left-handed he hadn't done a very good job at cleaning and wrapping the split and bleeding skin.

She was surprised he let her do anything as she silently and slowly unwrapped the haphazardly applied bandage. The skin underneath was red raw but thankfully had begun to clot. He could still move his fingers with no problem at all, so there were no broken bones. There was slight swelling, but with a little ice that would go down overnight. She got to the motions of wrapping a fresh bandage over them, spraying some antiseptic spray over the wounds for good measure. When she was all done she brought his hand up to her lips and kissed his knuckles gently.

"No more punching walls, okay?"

He just nodded in reply. She knew he was physically and emotionally spent. They all were, though him more so because of what Loki had done. She knew what it was like to be unmade, to have her head turned inside out with nothing she could do to stop it. She was used to that feeling and could deal with it. Clint, however, wasn't and she wished with everything she had that it had never happened to him. No one deserved to be put through that hell.

"Come on, let's get some sleep. You okay like that?"

He was in nothing more than his own pair of baggy track pants, his chest exposed and his back bandaged from where he had landed on all of that glass. Natasha had insisted that she do that for him and he hadn't objected. He had sat patiently as she pulled all of the remaining shards out with a pair of tweezers, before tending to the cuts and wrapping them up. He had then retreated into the bathroom to finish without her help.

That would have offended most people, but she was used to Clint pushing her away when it came to medical help. He liked to keep his pride intact as much as he could. Natasha granted him that.

He nodded again to answer her and she simply pulled him over to the large king sized bed that sat in the middle of the extravagant room. Tony Stark sure knew how to indulge himself when it came to building his tower and for once, Natasha was glad for the luxurious taste the billionaire had, as she wasn't about to say no to a good night's sleep. Both of them slipped under the sheets and found a comfortable position easily.

Whenever they could, they slept in the same bed. It was more a matter of comfort than a matter of sexual reasoning, though they would never deny themselves that either. Whenever they slept together, they would assume the same position: Clint on his back with Natasha's head on his chest, his arms tight around her waist. If they didn't start out in the position then they would awaken like that. Tonight would be no exception.

Clint moaned in satisfaction as he let himself sink into the mattress. It was quite possibly the best bed he had ever climbed into. There were plenty of pillows to surround himself with – Natasha liked to joke that he made a nest while he slept – and the sheets were warm but not so warm that it got stuffy. Everything was of the best quality and while Clint was always happy with just having a place to lay his head, he wasn't going to complain about this.

Natasha got comfortable and he placed a kiss on top of her head, reaching out to turn out the bedside lamp.

They didn't sleep. They just lay there. Clint was the one to break the silence.

"Tasha… are you okay?"

His words were quiet and although she appeared to be asleep, he knew she wasn't. He could read her like a book just as easily as she could with him. He lifted a hand from where it rested on her ribcage and brushed her cheek with his fingers. She tipped her head up to look at him in the darkness with her tired green eyes.

"Mmm, I'm fine."

He gave her a pointed look. He didn't have to remind her that he knew her better than that.

"I almost killed you today."

"No. Don't do that to yourself Clint."

He sighed and shook his head. He had gone and held a knife to her throat; he had tried to press the tip of it into her skin to kill her like someone would kill an animal. That was all she had been to him while he had been under Loki's control, she had been nothing more than livestock being led to the slaughter. It was a good thing she had grown stronger than him over the years they had known each other. And he had to admit that she had always been better at hand-to-hand combat than he had.

"It wouldn't be the first time."

Her words made him look down at her. She was staring back at him, a soft smile on her face, her eyes daring him to challenge her. All he could do was smile back with a quiet chuckle. She was right after all.

"I love you Tash."

He leaned down and kissed her and she kissed him back. He didn't expect to hear her return the statement, as he knew how she felt about love. But he also knew that she loved him in her own way, whether she was ready to say it or not. She knew what she meant and he did too. It was all confirmed in the little things that she did: when she was patching his wounds up after a mission; when she would have coffee, just the way he liked it, waiting for him in the morning; when she would only ever smile at him. He wouldn't care if she never said it to him, he was happy with how they were.

Looking back down, he saw she was fast asleep. He placed another kiss on top of her red curls and closed his eyes too. For the first time in a long time, he slept peacefully with no nightmares.

When Clint woke up, his coffee was on the nightstand with a note from Natasha beside it.

_Didn't want to wake you up, you were sleeping so well. Here's your coffee, come and find me upstairs. _

The room smelled like her perfume and the bathroom was still steamy from a recent shower. She hadn't been gone long. Downing the coffee, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a purple t-shirt that had been left on the chair for him, cleaned his teeth and ventured upstairs.

Everyone was present in the living area. It was a large kitchen, every appliance state of the art, and it was teaming with activity. A strawberry blonde woman, who Natasha had informed him was named Pepper, was stood at the stove, flipping pancakes for a salivating Thor and Tony who were sat at the breakfast bar in front of it. Steve was reading the newspaper and was in awe at everything he read and Bruce was spreading something that looked like some sort of fruit conserve on some toasted bagels. Clint frowned. He couldn't spot his partner anywhere, although he hadn't expected her to be playing happy families with the other Avengers. She had never been good with groups of people.

The room itself was large and screamed 'Tony Stark'. Everything was crisp and modern, with a polished tiled floor and a glass window spanning the entire south-facing wall from floor to ceiling. It not only made the room feel even bigger, it also gave the resident an impressive view of the Manhattan skyline. The kitchen area was raised and there were a few steps leading down to a living area. Plush leather couches were arranged around an obnoxiously large flat screen television and Clint assumed the vase of tulips sat on the coffee table was Pepper's doing. He didn't think Tony was the type who liked tulips.

A quick scan of the living area found Natasha sat on one of the leather couches holding a steaming mug of coffee. She was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a red tank top. Her feet were bare, her swollen ankle propped up underneath her, and her bright hair was neatly framing her face which had nothing more than the bare minimum of make up. Clint had always been adamant that she didn't need it. He smiled at the others before walking over to where she sat, flopping down beside her.

"What are you doing all the way over here?"

She just shrugged in response. He smiled sympathetically and swung an arm around her shoulders, curling her body against his. He knew how much she hated adjusting. It had taken her two years to get used to being with SHIELD so he didn't know how she was going to take the Avengers initiative.

Back at the kitchen area, the others had turned around to look at the two assassins who had made themselves comfortable on the couch. Tony grinned but Pepper shook her head and scolded him before he had even had a chance to say anything.

"Oh come on Pepper. Romanoff's had her panties in a bunch ever since Legolas was taken over by Loki. And when we went for shawarma last night they were all wrapped up in themselves. They're obviously an item… Jarvis, could you give me the surveillance tapes from Barton and Romanoff's – hey!" Pepper's light smack on the back of his head made him stop his request. "Fine. Ignore that Jarvis. I only wanted to know what they did last night." He was secretly glad that Natasha couldn't hear him. He was certain she wouldn't hesitate to seriously hurt him if she overheard him discussing her sex life.

He had feared her as Natalie Rushman and he feared her even more as Natasha Romanoff.

"That's none of your business. Leave them alone and eat these."

She placed steaming plates of pancakes in front of both Tony and Thor, who proceeded to devour them in a hurry. Thor had already eaten his way through an entire box of strawberry Pop Tarts but he still had room for the pile of pancakes on his plate. Pepper smiled at how well her food was going down with the superheroes and piled some more pancakes onto two more plates. Tony and Thor both looked up expectantly, but Pepper just shook her head.

"Clint, Natasha?" The two assassins looked up from their position on the couch. Pepper raised a plate to show them that breakfast was ready should they want it and Clint was over in a heartbeat, sat around the breakfast bar with the others.

"Thanks! These look delicious, I'm starving." He literally drowned his stack in syrup and dug in. Natasha moved to sit beside him, bringing her coffee with her. She was wary of the other Avengers, despite having spent the last few days fighting alongside them. Her stance at the table showed it clearly – her tense shoulders and the way she kept close to him and only him. He was glad to see her eating, picking her way through the plate Pepper had put in front of her and he smiled when he saw a genuine smile appear on her face as the other woman took Natasha's empty coffee cup from the table.

"So, do you like your coffee the same way as Natalie did?" The comment was teasing and Natasha was glad that there were no hard feelings between the two. Pepper seemed to understand that Natasha had been undercover and hadn't just been lying to her for the sake of it. In response to the question, the Russian just nodded.

"Thanks. The pancakes are really good by the way." She had barely finished her sentence before Clint added to the conversation.

"And it's a big thing for her to say that. She never usually eats food if it's been made by anyone other than her or myself, so you're a very lucky woman Pepper."

Natasha dug her elbow into his side. No one needed to know about her eating habits. She was scared of being poisoned. It was a possibility. Clint shut up immediately and everyone went back to eating in silence. When Pepper placed a steaming mug of Natasha's favourite coffee in front of her, the redhead smiled her thanks and gratefully drank from it.

"You'll keep her sweet if there's a pot of that ready for when she wakes up every morning."

She elbowed Clint again. The archer smirked from behind his own drink.

"I'm just letting them know, Tash. Don't need you going all murderer on them because they weren't warned first."

Her response this time was an eye roll. Tony smirked to Bruce and Steve. Thor was too preoccupied with his food. Tony was certain that there was something going on between the two assassins as they were acting like an old married couple and it just didn't seem like their relationship was as platonic as they made it out to be.

He was certain they were animals in bed. And he was pretty convinced that they dabbled in some rather alternative methods of pleasure. He had read the Black Widow's file (after some illegal hacking into SHIELD's mainframe) and had found out about some of her interrogation tactics. Put them together with that tight cat suit she was always wearing and he was certain she was the dominant one. She didn't seem the type who would enjoy being tied up and played with… although come to think of it, if it was Clint doing the 'interrogation', she just might.

But then there was her name. Black Widow spiders were known for killing their mates right after sex…

He shook his head. No more thinking about any of that. Perhaps it was best left behind closed doors. He would just stand outside with his ear pressed against it to see if his hunches were right. He would also remind Jarvis to continue filming everything that went on so he could watch it later. He wasn't some sick voyeur and he certainly wasn't going to view anything that happened inside as pornography. He was just curious. Really, really curious.

After breakfast they found themselves with very little to do. Thor was returning back to Asgard with Loki that afternoon, so until then they were confined to Stark Tower. Everyone apart from Natasha seemed happy with that.

She didn't like being boxed in anywhere. Her fight or flight response was always on, unless she was in the secret safe house in Rome that she and Clint shared, and right now it was weighted heavily towards flight. Clint knew it was because she was in an unfamiliar environment – not Stark Tower. She was used to the building from her time working there as Natalie Rushman. Spending her free time with a group of people, despite it only being small, was something that made her uneasy. It was an unfamiliar environment for her. She was a private person as it was; she didn't open up to many people other than Clint and she wanted things to stay that way. Change wasn't something she welcomed. Natasha lived for routine and some semblance of normal.

While the other Avengers settled on the couch to watch a movie, Clint hung back with Natasha. She couldn't bring herself to venture over with them and she just stood leaning against the kitchen counter. Clint was stood directly in front of her, so close she could feel his breath on her neck. His hands ran up and down her arms in a calming motion but it didn't do much to ease the distrust she felt.

"Tasha, you can go over with them. It's okay, they won't hurt you." His voice was barely a whisper so that no one else could hear him.

"_Don't you think I know that?"_ She snapped in Russian. He frowned at how angry she sounded, her switch to her native language only proving her anger more. Why was she so angry?

"_Natasha, what's wrong?"_ He was genuinely concerned.

She shoved herself away from him, storming around the counter and towards the hallway leading to the elevator. She could feel everyone's eyes watching and probably wondering just what was going on. She didn't care right now.

Clint hurried after her, throwing an apologetic glance at the other Avengers. They turned back to the television, pressing play and watching something. Clint didn't know what movie they had chosen and right now he didn't care. He just wanted to make sure Natasha was okay.

He caught up to her just as the elevator doors were closing. She cursed at how he had managed to slip through into the small space. He was ignored in the short time the elevator was in motion and she hurried out when they opened on their floor, practically running to get to her room. Though last night she had protested at them being given separate rooms, she was now glad for the private space. The need she felt for being alone was almost overwhelming but Clint refused to let her be.

Before she could lock him out, he was inside her room with her.

"Natasha… don't run from me."

She didn't say anything. Clint felt like pulling his hair out. Instead, he calmly reached for her arm, prepared to turn her around to face him. She spun around, her fist heading towards his face. He caught her hand just in time, sparing himself a black eye or broken nose.

She didn't pull her hand back; she just let it fall limply to her side and entwined her fingers to his. She let herself step forward and lean against his chest and he was certain he heard her sniffle.

The Black Widow never cried, but right now she was just Natasha. He wrapped his arms tight around her, one holding her around her waist and the other cradling her head against the crook of his neck. He hushed her with quiet, comforting words in both Russian and English, moving her slowly towards the bed. He lowered himself to sit on the edge of it before pulling her down to sit on his lap. Usually she rejected comfort like this, but today she was allowing it and he was glad.

"Talk to me Tash. What's wrong? You jumped at the idea of living here yesterday."

She sighed and reached up and wiped her green eyes, which were thankfully make up free. She didn't need the telltale mascara tracks to let anyone know of her moment of emotional weakness. She let herself curl up against his body and rested her head against his shoulder. Her eyes were closed. It was peaceful.

Clint said nothing; he just waited for her to start talking. He knew she would if he kept quiet – she always did when it was just the two of them.

"I want to be here, I really do. I just can't trust them, Clint. I can't trust them but I wish I could!"

"What do you mean? The last few days, well the ones where I wasn't under Loki's control," He said those words bitterly, hating to be reminded of the rogue demigod who was at a SHIED detention centre, "it seemed as though you really trusted them. They had your back and you had theirs."

Natasha nodded.

"So what's the problem?"

She sighed and shifted on his lap.

"I trust them to have my back in the field. They've proven that they're more than capable of doing that. But, outside of the field? I don't know. You know I can't trust people."

Clint nodded in understanding. He placed a soft kiss on top of her red curls.

"Mmhmm, I know. You don't want to get too close just in case, I get it. But did you ever think that we might be stuck with these guys now? The Avengers Initiative isn't going away anytime soon."

Natasha sighed.

"Having a place to come home to and having people to come home too… it's a strange concept to me. I want it more than anything, probably due to never having anywhere to call home and no one to have a home with – other than you of course. But I don't want to fall for it… just in case."

Clint's arms tightened around her. He knew what she meant. She was scared of having everything she had finally wanted taken away from her. It had happened before when she had found love in Alexei. The Red Room had killed him to teach her a lesson and when she had found out that he was actually alive years later, it had made her heart hurt all over again. She had only just been getting over that hurt with Clint to help her; she didn't want to reopen old wounds by trusting others again.

"They're not going anywhere and neither am I. I swear to you, you'll never be on your own again."

He dipped his head down and nudged her lips with his. Hers latched on immediately and they shared a slow yet loving kiss. It was these ones that Natasha loved most of all. She was all for playing rough, but soft and tender moments were always much better. She craved the comfort that the simple actions offered. The kiss was over sooner than she would have liked, but Clint took her hand and nudged her off of his lap.

He led her back upstairs and she tensed upon entering the living area again. The others were sat with the movie paused, yet to start it, almost as though they knew the assassins were coming back.

"Everything okay?" Bruce's quiet voice piped up from one of the couches, the others sat waiting and fighting over popcorn.

Tony was casually throwing it at Steve and seeing how many kernels he could bounce off of the Captain's head before he realized. He stopped when he noticed Clint and Natasha and grinned at Clint. Clint ignored him.

"Everything's okay." Clint confirmed. Natasha just gave a little nod of her head. The archer led his partner to the empty couch beside the one that Tony and Pepper were sharing. He pulled Natasha down with him and tucked his arms around her. It didn't take long before she relaxed her body against his.

The movie played and for once, Natasha felt as if she belonged somewhere. She didn't want that feeling of security to go away.

Somewhere between one of the many fight scenes, the redheaded Russian had drifted off. When Jarvis lifted the low lighting at the end of the movie, everyone began to get up and stretch, preparing to go and meet SHIELD in Central Park. Clint tried to move but found that Natasha's deadweight was stopping him from doing so.

"Nat... come on, up you get."

She stirred with a groan before realizing where she was. She got up slowly but wasn't cautious, so Clint saw that as an improvement.

"Ready to send Loki off?"

Natasha snorted. There was his answer.

And with that, the team grabbed their jackets and were out the door, ready to put an end to the last few days for good.

* * *

The action starts next chapter!


	4. Chapter 4

I never thought I would get this up so quickly! Thank you so much for the lovely reviews and the follows and favourites have been pouring in. I'm so glad you like it! I can't believe it, especially since it's my first Avengers story.

Disclaimer: If I owned the Avengers, Black Widow and Hawkeye would have their own movie by now.

* * *

"Hawkeye, behind you!"

Clint spun and quickly elbowed one of the men who had managed to get close to him in the face, breaking his nose. Blood poured out and he was then distracted enough for Clint to take down with a heavy punch. The armed guard fell to Clint's feet and didn't get back up. "Thanks Widow. You in?" He could almost hear the roll her eyes made at his question.

"I got in ten minutes ago." He heard the crack of someone's neck as she broke it and he grinned, knowing how she had done it. Her thighs were deadly. "Where have you been?"

Before he could answer her there was a growl from her and a scream from the man she was currently beating to a pulp. He hated not having his eyes on her, but someone needed to keep the perimeter secure and be was the one with the skills to do just that. He released an arrow from his bow as a target tried to reach him. The arrow hit its mark directly in the heart and Clint hadn't even been looking in that direction. He smirked smugly to himself. He was good. Very good.

The sound of a gun brought him out of his rare egotistical moment and he frowned. No one had shot at him, which only meant that it had come from the building he was stood on top of. His hand released another arrow - once again hitting his target head on - before it flew to his ear.

"Widow! Widow do you copy?"

There was static on the line for a few seconds. Those few seconds felt like hours.

"Widow!" He was desperate to get a reply, to hear anything that would let him know that the gunshot hadn't been at her.

"I copy."

Her voice was faint, the link between them damaged from a blow Natasha must have sustained, but he could hear her. "I have what we came for, now let's -" her line went dead.

"Tasha?" He didn't care for protocol and used her name, the name he had given her.

There was no answer. Clint ran to the edge of the roof where a hatch leading to the inside was. It was how his partner had gotten into the building and it was deemed safe. He had taken out all of the guards anyway and if he encountered any on the way down he would just do it all over again.

Inside was dark. Emergency lighting lit the narrow corridors, barely giving anyone enough light to work in. Someone had tripped the alarm as soon as Natasha had been discovered and it made Clint even more anxious to find her. His palms were sweaty, his breath shaking as he dared himself to take deep gasps of air. He was nervous and would feel better once he found his partner.

Ha, partner. They had used that word for years to define what they were, in a strictly professional sense. It wasn't until Budapest that the definition of the word 'partners' changed for them. It was that night of hell that had resulted in them giving themselves to each other completely, finally fully trusting one another in so many ways.

Budapest had been one of the best nights of his life, despite everything that gone wrong out there. His hand reached up to his neck, where a gold chain sat hidden underneath his vest. On it hung a plain gold ring. He knew Natasha wasn't wearing hers; she hadn't since the night of the ceremony. He could understand why – the necklace would be visible underneath her cat suit due to the plunging neckline and she didn't want to risk being compromised because of it. Neither did he, but he could keep his hidden and wasn't in a position where he was planning on getting his chest out anytime soon.

He almost laughed at what they were. Married assassins. How many other assassin couples were there in the world? Surely they were pretty unique. The other Avengers had no idea and only Coulson had known about it in SHIELD. The secret had gone to his grave with him. He wasn't planning on letting anyone else know for a while as he was rather enjoying the secrecy of it. It was nice to just be able to keep something to himself for once, instead of his personal life being there for everyone to see. He was a spy who liked his secrecy.

Continuing down the corridors, Clint encountered dead bodies of guards wherever he looked. They were slumped up against walls and piled on the floor; blood pouring from their foreheads where a single bullet wound was visible. He got a certain way along the second corridor when the bullet wounds stopped. He spotted Natasha's gun lying discarded on the floor. Her weapons were always recognisable to him and easy for him to spot. He picked it up and checked – it was empty.

"Fuck, Nat…" Why hadn't she told him that she had run out of bullets?

His cautious walking began to turn into a run, his pace getting faster and faster until he ran out of dead bodies to follow. Clint stood in the doorway of a room at the end of the corridor. He had memorised the layout of the building thoroughly in his mind and had guided Natasha through it using the communicators. This was the room she had needed to get to. It was empty. Where was she?

He was worried but he was trying his hardest not to show it. In a situation like this he needed to keep calm and think with a clear mind. He needed to be rational. But if anyone had hurt Natasha in anyway at all, he wouldn't hesitate to put an arrow through his or her eye socket.

Turning to the other doorway, he assumed that was where Natasha had gone. It would have been her only way out of the room if she had found herself cornered, so he walked that way. There were more bodies on the floor now, ones with broken necks and black and bloodied faces. She had been using hand-to-hand combat as he saw her other gun, the one that had only had one bullet left after they had needed to fight their way through the perimeter, was lying on the floor next to another dead body and it too was empty. His worry skyrocketed.

There was a crackle in his ear and his heart jumped at the surprise. The communicator was back online and he currently only had it set to one frequency. Which only meant it could be one person.

"Natasha! Where the fuck are you?" He couldn't hide the shake in his voice as he waited for her reply.

When it came, her voice was strained and the line was quiet from the damage it had sustained. She only managed to get out one number before the line died again.

"406."

His brow furrowed as he tried to work out what she had meant by that. What significance could 406 be? He raised his eyes and looked around for any clues. The trail of bodies ran out here again, so he assumed she must still be close. His gaze came down on a faded number stamped on one of the closed doors.

406 was a room number.

He began running down the corridor again, watching as the numbers slowly rose. It didn't take him long to reach the number she had given him and he cautiously entered the room. For all he knew it was some sort of trap that he was being lured into. He wouldn't put it past the people they were up against. It had happened to them before in the past.

Natasha's voice put him at ease, but also made him feel terribly stupid at the same time. She had always been able to do that to him.

"Oh for god's sake Clint, just come in already. There's no one else in here."

He shoved the door open and hurriedly closed it behind him. The room was dark, almost pitch black save for the dim bulb lighting the emergency lighting, casting a red glow over everything. It was because of her hair that he found her.

Natasha was slumped against the far wall, a knife clenched in her right hand, ready to attack if she needed to. She dropped it when he entered alone. She could tease him all she wanted, but she knew she was just as paranoid as him. It came with their job and was something they had to constantly live with. Her left hand was wrapped tight around her midsection and even in the dim light, Clint could see how pale she had gotten.

He dropped down to sit beside her and brushed some of her red curls from her face. She wrinkled her nose, having not noticed that they had been in the way in the first place.

"What happened, Nat?"

"The bastard got me when he saw I'd run out of bullets. I thought I'd killed him, he got his gun out and bang."

She lifted her hand from where it was pressed, showing the blood that was slowly trickling out of the bullet wound that had ripped a hole through her skin. Clint quickly took over with his hand, pressing down hard enough to make her hiss in pain. He gave her an apologetic look that she just shrugged off. She knew it was necessary otherwise she would bleed out.

While doing this, he reached with his other hand to switch the frequency on his communicator.

"Barton to base, Romanoff is down. I repeat, Romanoff is down, we need medics now."

An affirmative was given and Clint just prayed they would hurry up. There was already a sizeable pool of blood underneath her and she was already showing signs of wanting to give in to the overwhelming darkness that threatened to pull her under. She was losing blood and fast.

Clint shifted his position so that he was sat against the wall and reached out to pull her against him. She slumped down to rest over his lap and he continued to apply pressure to the wound. It wasn't a clear shot; the bullet was still lodged in her body somewhere.

He noticed her eyes were closed and gently shook her.

"Hey! Tasha, no sleeping." She just murmured sleepily. "No, you need to keep your eyes open, okay? Keep looking at me. That's it."

She gave him a smile.

"Just like Budapest, huh?"

He could only nod in agreement. Budapest had gone exactly the same way, it was almost a strong case of déjà vu.

By the time the medics reached them, Natasha was fading in and out of a dreamlike state. They had been sat there only twenty minutes, but she had been there far longer while Clint had been trying to find her. He sat beside her on the way back to base, holding her hand while the medics worked to stop her from bleeding out. She flat-lined once. They brought her back.

He was left outside the medical bay when they reached the helicarrier. His minor injuries were treated and he was left to wait for her. His hand played with the wedding ring that was hanging on the chain, not caring if any agents who walked past saw it. He was beyond caring about that secret now. If she survived this then he wanted to shout it from the rooftops.

He had already lost Couslon, he wasn't going to lose her too.

It was nearly four hours later that a doctor came out. Clint was hit with another wave of déjà vu. He didn't like it.

"Is she… alive?"

The doctor nodded.

"She's tough, you know that. She came through it beautifully and won't have any lasting injuries. There is another matter however, though it's not my place to discuss. You'll have to talk to her."

Ciint frowned. He wanted to grab the doctor and shake him, scream at him, anything to get him to tell him what was wrong. But he didn't, he kept his cool as best as he could, giving a slight nod to the man in front of him.

"Can I see her?"

"Of course."

Clint found her just staring at the white wall opposite her bed when he entered the room. The atmosphere was tense and almost stifling, making him want to turn and run out of the door, dragging her with him. They could recover together in his room, like they always did. Who was he kidding; her injuries were too severe for him to patch up.

She was still attached to a blood transfusion, the crimson liquid dripping down the IV line into her arm. It just made her skin seem so much paler than her usual pale ivory skin tone.

"Tash… apparently we need to discuss something?"

She just nodded in response, refusing to look at him. She just continued staring at the wall.

"Natashenka," he murmured another one of his nicknames for her, one that he only used when there was something wrong or if she needed comforting, "please don't shut me out."

Her words were sharp and to the point and they cut through him like a knife.

"There was a baby."

"What… what do you mean?" He was practically speechless and let himself sit down in the chair beside her bed.

"That night a few months ago, after the fight in Manhattan. Yeah well, we weren't careful and there was a baby."

She was speaking with a detached, almost monotone voice. Clint knew that Natasha was shutting down and that this was one of those rare times that Natalia was making her way back out. He didn't want that to happen.

"Is it…?" He didn't want to ask if the baby was okay or not. He couldn't assume her reaction was due to the baby being hurt though, as he was certain she would react the same way if she had only just been told she was carrying a child. Natasha wasn't the maternal type, though Clint was sure that she would make a good mother if she tried.

"It's dead." Her voice was cold. "But not from the bullet. The doctor said it was dead before I got hit."

She continued before he could get a word in.

"My body rejected it because of one of the surgeries the Red Room gave me. They made it so it's impossible for me to have children. I understand, after all, the Black Widow is a killer not a mother. I never wanted children anyway."

Her voice began to shake and he saw her eyes blink back tears.

"I'm nothing but a killer Clint. I'm just a weapon."

"That's not true."

She just nodded in response. He reached out to touch her shoulder, to try and comfort his wife, but she shook him away.

"Don't touch me."

"Natasha please – "

"No! Please… just go."

He could see the guilt weighing in her eyes, the way she was shutting herself down. She had done this before and it had taken Clint months to get her to open back up. He didn't want to have her fall back like that again.

He got up and reluctantly left her side, leaving the room. Outside the closed door he could hear her finally crack, finally start sobbing without caring if anyone heard. He had found with Natasha that there was a limit to how long she could bottle her emotions up. Now that she was free of the Red Room she had discovered the human side of her that had been previously disguised by her need to kill. She would eventually break and just cry everything out. He was always there to help her through it but tonight; she didn't want him there.

He slid down the wall outside her room. His foot flew out and kicked the trashcan opposite, the force he used enough to leave a dent. His bow and quiver sat in the chair opposite, where he had been sat earlier, just forgotten about for now as the archer found himself crying. He hadn't cried in years, not even at Coulson's funeral.

Footsteps made him look up and he saw the other Avengers stood there, concerned looks on their faces. Clint just shook his head and lowered it again, letting his cries echo the ones coming from the room behind him.

The others didn't leave. Instead they sat there with him, all except Thor who was back on Asgard. Pepper sat beside Cling on the floor, holding him to her in a comforting way. Tony and Bruce sat on the chairs and Steve leaned up against the wall. The two assassins were part of their team and the team had become somewhat of a family.

If Clint wasn't moving, then neither were they.

* * *

If Natasha seemed a little OC in this then I'm sorry. I have plans for her emotional growth so I'm trying to imagine how the Black Widow would feel through all of this. She's a complicated character but I think I'm beginning to get under her skin. I have my own understanding of her that may be different to the Marvel canon verse, but it will all fit in! I'm rambling, I'll stop now. The next chapter will hopefully be up soon!


	5. Chapter 5

This chapter and the one that follows is full of Clintasha fluff. I've been a little slow at writing over the last few days, hence the slower update, but chapter 6 will be on its way very shortly. I'm at around 17,000 words in my NaNoWriMo right now, so I'm slightly behind but I'm trying to catch up! Thank you so much for the reviews and follows and favourites. I'm so glad you're enjoying this story as much as I am writing it.

Disclaimer: If the Avengers were mine you would be able to buy an official Hawkeye action figure... they don't sell them in the UK. Hmph.

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Natasha was released from the medical bay and into the care of Dr Banner two days later. She had refused visitors, including Clint, ever since she had screamed for the archer to get out. Clint had returned while she had been sleeping and sat in the chair beside her bed to just watch over her. He was gone before she woke up every morning.

It was a week after the incident and Natasha was sat in her bedroom. Hers had never been used before last week as she always slept in Clint's, but now hers was where she could hide away from the world and be on her own.

She didn't know why the baby had shaken her up so much. She had never thought about having a baby, it had never been an option for her. Her dreams were now filled with images of her and Clint, happily married with a child or two. One was blonde like him, the other a redhead like her. When she woke up she always found herself desperately wishing it could be a possibility. She had never had a family, her parents had been killed when she was just five years old and she could barely remember them. All she could remember was the blaze they had died in. That was the night she had been taken to the Red Room. There was no family in there.

The Avengers were the first thing she had ever had to a real family. Clint was her everything and she couldn't imagine her life without him. Although she had been hesitant to mix with her team at first, now she was comfortable enough to just sit amongst them and join in with whatever they were doing. She would laugh and joke with them, she was much more open than she had ever been and she loved every minute of it. But this revelation, the fact that she couldn't do what a woman should be able to do, made her hurt worse inside than she ever had before.

She had never wanted a baby. But knowing now that she wouldn't even be able to change her mind about that, it just made her want to cry even more.

Before leaving the medical bay, Natasha had ordered a doctor to run a few tests. The results had come back and it was just how she had expected them to be. The Red Room had altered her body so much that she would never be able to carry a child. It was a miracle she had even managed to conceive in the first place.

A knock at her door made her head whip up. Her hand slowly reached for the gun that was always kept under her pillow. It was one of her small Glocks and she held it shakily towards the door, finger on the trigger just in case she needed to act quickly. The rational part of her mind was screaming at her to put it away, as surely it was only one of the men or Pepper. _But what if it isn't?_

"Who is it?"

"Nat… let me in."

She sighed and dropped the gun down onto her bed. She uncurled herself from where she had been tucked in the corner and slowly made her way to the door. Letting him in, she returned to her corner, propped up between the two walls on the edge of her mattress. The room was dark, the faint daylight trying to get in around her drawn curtains. She liked it dark and she didn't want the light. Spiders lived in the dark and that was all she was.

She kept her eyes down as she felt the bed dip as Clint crawled in beside her. She felt his arm reach out and she resisted the urge to twist it until it snapped, instead she let him touch her shoulder. She didn't look at him. His hand moved up to her neck, snaking towards her cheek. She knew his intention was to lift her head so that she would finally meet his eyes, but she didn't want him to see how red and bloodshot they were. She didn't want him to know that she had been crying. No matter how upset and heartbroken she was, she was going to keep her pride.

He slid over to sit beside her, bending down to finally catch her face. He let out a small sigh and tipped her chin a little to lift her head up. She reluctantly let him.

"Natashenka… don't do this to yourself."

She didn't say anything; she just let him tug her body to his. She fell against him and didn't make any attempt to hold onto him. She let him do that. He wrapped his arms around her tight and rocked slowly. One night, after a bad mission that had brought up some terrifying memories she had of the Red Room, he had just held her and rocked her slowly and she had relaxed enough to have a good night's sleep.

"It wasn't your fault." His words were a whisper against the top of her head.

Her reply was a murmur in Russian.

"_Yes it was. I'm a killer, I killed it."_

"No you didn't. Please, Tash, don't do this to yourself."

"_Then it was their fault! They gave me that surgery! They took it away from me!"_

He felt her tears soaking through his thin t-shirt before he heard her muffled sobs. He just shushed her and rocked her more.

"We'll see a doctor, there might be something they can do."

She shook her head.

"There isn't." Her return to English made him look down, meeting her eyes as she shook her head. "I got the doctor to do a few tests. He said there's nothing he can do to reverse it and that I was lucky to even be able to conceive in the first place. It will never happen Clint, not for me."

He noticed how sad she sounded, unable to believe that this was the same girl he had brought over from Russia. The heartless killer who had never cared for life was suddenly mourning the fact that she couldn't bring one into the world.

"It's funny. I never wanted children; I never even gave the possibility a thought. I just figured I'd keep working for SHIELD until it killed me. But the last few days I've been thinking and I keep having these dreams where we have this family… there's me and you and then a little boy who has your nose and my hair, and a little baby girl who has your hair and my eyes. It's so perfect, but I know it's not going to happen. I'll always have you, but we won't be a family."

He blinked back his own tears as he listened to her. He had slept through similar dreams himself and he had always seen himself as a father. But if it weren't meant to be for him, then he wouldn't mind. He had Natasha and that was all that mattered to him.

"You have a family and you always will. You've got me and you have the Avengers. You're not going to be alone anymore."

He knew that was what she worried about the most, being without anyone else in her life anymore. Ever since her parents had been killed in the house fire, ever since she had been forced to kill the only friends she had in the Red Room and especially ever since Alexei had been taken from her.

She just nodded. She didn't have anything left to say. Clint kissed the top of her head again and Natasha tipped her head up to meet his lips with hers instead. The kiss was heated and heavy, full of desperation and pleading. Natasha leaned up, twisting onto her knees, and she started to move her lips down his neck. Clint knew he should stop her, that she was hiding all of her pain behind the need for mindless sex, but damn it they hadn't spent the night together for months.

Her hands slid up under his shirt, brushing over his well-defined muscles, and he let out a low moan as she bit down on his neck. It didn't take long for said shirt to end up somewhere on her bedroom floor, her own following soon after.

"Nat…" Her name left his lips in a low guttural moan and Natasha could only make a similar sound back. Her hands slipped down to his jeans and slowly unbuckled the belt buckle while her teeth left purple marks on his bare shoulder. He helped her shove the worn denim down before his hands met her own panties. She had been dressed for bed, wearing one of his training shirts and just her black lace briefs. They were soon on the floor with the rest of their clothing.

They spent the night together in a sweaty mess on the bed, screaming each other's names long into the early hours. Natasha mentally scolded herself for hiding away from him, as when they were together like this, everything felt okay.

From then on, the couple decided to make time for each other at least once a week. They were with each other almost every second of every day, although that was usually always work related. Clint couldn't remember the last time he had taken Natasha out anywhere and he felt bad for letting time get away from him like that.

It was a few days since they had reconnected in the bedroom and Clint was on a mission. It was nothing he had been given from Fury or SHIELD, no, the mission was a personal one. He was on a mission to find his wife.

He had checked her favourite area of the training rooms, expecting to see her there beating the punching bag into submission or shooting targets with her eyes closed, but she wasn't there. On the way up in the elevator he stopped off in the labs to see if she was in there with Bruce. Natasha liked to spend time in there with Bruce, just watching him work and listening to him talk science. Because of the risk of the Hulk, Bruce always kept a calm atmosphere in the labs, and Natasha often revelled in it. Despite being terrified of the Hulk, though she never let it show, Natasha liked Bruce. He was a good friend to her and his knowledge of everything just fascinated the Russian. She didn't understand the scientific talk that came out of his mouth, but she liked hearing it regardless.

But one trip to Bruce revealed that she wasn't there and he hadn't seen her since breakfast. Clint frowned before deciding to stop by the living quarters. The bedrooms were on the upper floors but before heading there, Clint made his way to the sitting area. It was there that he found the redhead he was looking for.

She was curled up on the couch with a book. Wearing a casual outfit of a blue pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, with knitted socks on her feet, which were tucked up underneath her body, Natasha looked peaceful for once. There was a steaming mug of her favourite tea on the coffee table in front of her, something else that told Clint she was in her peaceful place. He walked around the couch and sank down into the plush cushions beside her. She continued reading, but the little smile on her face told him that she knew he was there.

The book was thick and he could see the writing was Cyrillic. Clint had never been able to get his head around reading so much of the writing all in one go, but he knew she preferred Cyrillic texts to English – while she was fluent in English, she was slower at reading it and she got frustrated by that.

He waited for her to close the book before he said anything. She put it to one side and reached forward for her tea, holding the mug close as she sipped.

"What can I do for you then?"

Her tone was light and her voice soft, a sound that he was usually the only one privileged to hear. To everyone else she was the Black Widow, even to her fellow Avengers whom had been given the chance to get under her skin more than anyone else aside from Clint. Clint always saw Natasha Romanoff, even when she was stood tall over a quivering wreck of a man, twisting her knife further and further into his worthless body.

"I wanted to ask you a question."

Her eyebrow arched.

"Ask away."

He leaned in closer, his head propped up on his arm and a lazy smile on his face. Natasha smirked back, tipping her head closer and barely brushing her lips against his.

"I want to take you out tonight. Like a date."

He wanted to grin at the smile his suggestion his 'question' had caused on her face.

"Where?"

"Anywhere you like. How about that Russian place down on Lafayette? The vodka bar. Last time we went there we had a good time, right?"

Natasha nodded with a small murmur of agreement. That had been a fun night indeed. Clint nodded back with a smile, pecking her lips before sitting up.

"Be ready for eight, we'll make a night of it. Jarvis?"

_Yes Mr Barton?_

"Tell the others that tonight, me and Nat aren't available and that if they even try to interrupt us, they can expect an arrow through their eye as soon as we get back."

_Yes Sir._

Clint left the room and Natasha smirked, taking another sip of her tea before returning to her book.


	6. Chapter 6

This is the start to a massive update tonight! I've written 3 chapters, so I'm going to post them and then hop into bed as I have to be up in 6 hours time. I hope you like them. This first one is pure Clintasha fluff. I really enjoyed writing it, although the action starts next chapter!

Disclaimer: Don't own them.

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True to his word, Clint knocked on her door at eight pm exactly. She was just finishing up at the mirror, slipping her earrings into her ears before she stood back to check her appearance.

The dress she had chosen was one that Clint hadn't seen before. It was a deep red in colour and wasn't anything fancy, but on her it was stunning. It was a straight cut, strapless number that clung to every curve in all the right ways and stopped just above the knees. Her milky-white legs were bare and seemed to go on forever until they reached a pair of black stiletto heels. Her red hair was curled and had grown to rest just below her shoulders, the copper tone shining in the low light of the bedroom, and she wore more make up than she usually would for work.

She smiled as she applied one last coat of lipstick and headed over to the door. She opened it slowly, revealing Clint who stood wearing a crisp, new dress shirt and black jeans. The shirt was black in colour and his tie was red, which Natasha smiled at. He knew her so well. He accompanied his outfit with his black leather jacket and his blonde hair was styled with a little gel.

He whistled a low whistle when he saw her, to which she gave a rare shy smile. When they were alone together, her walls came crashing down. She was always told she was pretty when she was working, usually by the men she was sent to kill, but knowing that Clint thought she was even remotely attractive made her stomach flutter with butterflies. Before she had met him she would have just laughed, as the Black Widow would never feel feelings such as those. But here she was, Natasha Romanoff was hopelessly in love. And she didn't want that feeling to go away.

He took her by the hand and twirled her in a slow circle, bringing forth a very out of character laugh that from someone else would be called a giggle. It made Clint smile to see her this relaxed and open and he was reminded all over again why she was his wife.

"You are so beautiful."

His words were so sincere she wanted to cry. They weren't the sad tears she had been crying for the last couple of weeks - these tears were happy ones.

She pulled him close to her with the hand that was wrapped in his, planting a kiss square on his lips. Pulling away a few seconds later, she reached up and rubbed a little bit of red lipstick from his skin before checking hers in the mirrored wall beside them. The whole hallway was like the corridor of a five star hotel or luxury cruise liner. The walls were gold with the occasional mirrored panel, the carpet was a rich red and the lighting reflected a yellow glow throughout. Tony Stark sure knew how to decorate spectacularly, not that Natasha would ever admit that to him.

"You don't look so bad yourself." She teased. "I love the leather."

She took a deep breath in, closing her eyes as she revelled in his scent.

"Your cologne too. Mmm."

He smirked proudly, never having been one to get all dressed up. He always made an effort for Natasha, but in the past he had always had Phil to help him choose what to wear. This time he had picked it out himself and he was glad that he had made a good choice.

Taking Natasha's hand, he walked with her to the elevator, his heart beating just that little bit faster when he felt her intertwine their fingers together. The elevator stopped on the way down, Tony waiting to get inside it and he smirked when he saw the two master assassins.

"Date night, huh? Looking good Natashalie. Very, very good." His eyes scanned over the redhead's body, earning him a glare from both of them. He shrugged it off and rode with them down to the foyer, where he got out to go and meet Pepper. The assassins walked out of the door and in the opposite direction.

They took the subway to Lafayette Street where the Russian vodka bar was located down a side alley. It was underground and Natasha had hunted it out shortly after the two Agents had moved to the New York SHIELD base. Clint had been reluctant to go with her at first but the two of them had loved it. The underground restaurant had a tall ceiling with arches that gave it the appearance of a wartime bunker. It was stylishly decorated; rich leather furnishings and dark wooden tables. The lighting was a yellow-white, making the whole place a warm and comfortable place to sit and eat some traditional Russian dishes with a variety of vodkas.

Clint smiled at the waitress stood at the podium by the door.

"_Privet_, we have a reservation under Barton?"

The waitress smiled back, gathering two menus and leading them to a booth at the back. It was close to the bar but private enough to make it seem as though they were in their own little world. Natasha gave Clint her own smile at his use of Russian. She knew he could speak it fluently, he had learned it because of her, but she knew how uncomfortable he was at speaking it around others unless he was actually in Russia.

They slid into the booth, Clint letting Natasha go first as she slid to the middle. He leaned right up against her, their thighs touching side by side and she leaned herself against his shoulder. His arm wrapped around her shoulders as they looked at the menu.

"I already ordered us dinner, so you just have to choose your vodka."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, trying to work out what he had chosen for them. The waitress brought over their starters first, placing the plate down in the middle of their round table. Natasha smiled when she saw what it was: the plate was filled with blini. The small Russian pancakes were topped with cream cheese and caviar and Natasha laughed as Clint began to dig in eagerly. She had cooked it for him numerous times over the years they had known each other and he had always loved it. They were one of her favourites too.

When the waitress came over to ask for their drinks choice, Natasha took it upon herself to answer, as Clint was currently busy biting into his fourth little blini. While the Russian usually drank her vodka neat, Clint wasn't as great at swallowing the alcohol without spitting it everywhere when feeling the burn. So to spare him the embarrassment, despite the amusement it would cause her, Natasha selected traditional Russian vodka with added grapefruit and cranberry juices. Clint gave her a grateful smile as he swallowed his mouthful, before asking for a glass of neat vodka for her as well. He knew she could hold her alcohol very well and didn't want her to miss out on her favourite drink just because he couldn't.

Their drinks arrived just as they finished their starters and while waiting for the main course, they just relaxed together. The atmosphere was peaceful and Natasha revelled in being able to just have a nice night out with her husband, especially after everything they had just been faced with.

"I had another dream the other night." Natasha voiced herself quietly, almost too scared that she would ruin the moment. Clint just smiled sympathetically and placed a kiss on the top of her red curls.

"Tell me, Natashenka."

She smiled softly at the nickname but sighed as she recalled the images that had woken her up at three in the morning.

"It was you and me again, with those children. It's so stupid."

Clint shook his head.

"It's not stupid at all. We don't need children to be a family, Tasha."

"But you deserve them. You've always wanted them, you told me so when we married."

He had, but the last two weeks had been a hard revelation and he had needed to reassess his life ambitions. If Natasha couldn't have children then so be it, they would just be themselves. He wasn't giving her up for anything.

"Yes I wanted them. But I want you even more. I wouldn't give you up for the world, you know that."

He held her close and Natasha just cuddled closer. Usually the Black Widow and the word 'cuddles' wouldn't even be used in the same sentence, but here she was craving the secure feeling that only her husband could give her. Natasha nodded and leaned closer, giving him a kiss that was filled with feeling and emotion.

"Ya lyublyu tebya." _I love you._

He smiled at hearing those words come from her mouth. She rarely voiced them, but she didn't need to anyway. Clint knew how she felt as he could read her like a book.

"I love you too."

Their food came only seconds after and Natasha found herself tearing up when she saw it. Clint frowned at her reaction, brushing some of her hair from her face.

"What's wrong? I thought this was your favourite?"

A steaming bowl of borscht had been put in front of the both of them, Natasha's topped with salad cream and beetroot slices. She nodded at him, unable to not laugh at herself as she wiped her eyes.

"It is. That's why I'm being all stupid and nearly crying – you're just so perfect I can't believe it."

His worried expression turned into a smile and he lightly brushed her tears away with his thumbs, leaning down and planting a gentle kiss on her red lips.

"You're not stupid Tasha, you're human."

They ate in a comfortable silence, sipping on their vodka as they finished their meal. Dessert came straight after and Natasha found herself melting into a large slice of Ptichie Moloko cake. When it came to go home, Natasha was well fed and, if it was possible, even more in love with the man sat beside her.

They walked home leaning against each other, Clint's leather jacket wrapped around Natasha's shoulders. They were both a little buzzed from the vodka they had consumed – Clint more so than Natasha – and were in a good mood. As they approached Stark Tower, Natasha pouted and shook her head.

"I don't want to go home yet."

She began to tug him in another direction.

"Tash, where are we going?"

She smiled, crossing the street with him still following and wondering where she was taking him. When she stopped walking, they were stood outside of one of the many entrances to Central Park.

"I've lived in New York for years, but I've never been inside."

Clint shook his head in disbelief, wondering how on earth she had managed to avoid the park. She had kept an apartment here since she had joined SHIELD and likewise so had he, though they both rarely used them. Despite their lack of time actually spent in the city, Clint had always made time for Central Park. He loved coming here for a morning jog.

"Well then, we'll take a look around in style."

She arched a delicate eyebrow and he just smirking knowingly. He walked her through the entrance to one of the roads that ran through the massive park. Along the roadside were a string of horse drawn carriages, all decorated with yellow fairy lights that lit up the night.

"Pick a horse and we'll get going."

Natasha smiled, excited that he was suggesting this. Her choice was a white horse towards the back of the row, the only white one.

"It reminds me of a horse my grandparents had. While I have very little memories of my life before the Red Room, I can clearly remember going to see a white horse when I was young."

That was reason enough for Clint, who helped her up and paid the driver a wad of bills – courtesy of Tony Stark – to ride around the entire park. He held Natasha close, who leaned her head on his shoulder and they set off. The carriage ride took them to various locations across the park and Natasha made sure to take as much of it in as she could. She told Clint that they were going to go to the zoo when it was open and that in winter they would go ice-skating. Clint chuckled at how excited and childlike she was being, especially because he was the only person who ever got to see her like this.

He signalled for the driver to pull over when he saw Natasha had drifted off against him, sleeping with a smile on her face. Thanking him, he slid out of the carriage before sliding his sleeping wife into his arms. They weren't too far from Stark Tower so he just carried her, her slight frame weighing nothing in his arms. On his way up to their floor, he greeted the other Avengers he saw with a smile and a nod, before slipping inside his bedroom for the night.

While after a successful date many couples would spend the night together, screaming each other's name well into the next morning, Clint just carefully undressed Natasha and tucked her into bed. He placed a soft kiss to her forehead before going into the bathroom to get himself ready for bed.

"Sleep tight Nat."


	7. Chapter 7

Update 2 of the evening! Here comes the action.

Disclaimer: I'm a student who isn't making any money from this.

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The team was awakened by a loud, blaring alarm. Lights were flashing red and the Avengers stumbled out into the living area, all in various states of dress. Tony was in a pair of flannel pyjama pants and a baggy Black Sabbath shirt. Steve was already in his sweatpants and shirt, having just come up from the gym. Bruce was dressed and had come up from his lab, so had been awake for a while it seemed. Clint and Natasha both came up together, Clint in similar attire to Tony while Natasha had tied a black robe around her body.

"Looks like a mission guys." Tony feigned enthusiasm as he took the message from Jarvis.

Steve turned to his team. He was the assumed leader and everyone had agreed to that because of his past experience at leading in the military during the war.

"Suit up, let's get to base."

Everyone nodded and scurried off, returning when in their battle gear.

A car was waiting for them outside and they all clambered in, being whisked away to the New York SHIELD base. Nick Fury was stood at the main doors when they arrived, silently motioning for them to follow.

Agents stared at the superhero team as they made their way through the halls and down stairs. Only Clint and Natasha had any idea of where they were headed, knowing the base well from working there. The two assassins nodded to various people they knew that passed, before coming out into a large conference room.

"There's an emergency that needs your attention. I know Thor is on Asgard right now, so he will not be needed unless it's absolutely necessary. You'll be going to Budapest."

Clint and Natasha shared a smile but remained professional. Budapest was very personal to them.

"There's a man who's causing SHIELD a lot of problems at the moment and we need him taken out. Usually I would just leave this to you two," he nodded towards Clint and Natasha, "but this is bigger than we would have liked. Alexei Shostakov is back to his old tricks but on a much larger scale. He needs taking out."

Natasha felt her blood run cold and visibly tensed up. Clint clenched his fists but otherwise looked no different. Natasha crossed the room before Fury could finish his sentence, pulling several guns from various compartments on the walls, loading them and slipping them into her holsters, all the while cursing in very fast Russian.

The other Avengers watched with curious faces, protesting when she began to head to the door.

"Romanoff!" Fury's voice stopped her.

"Sir, I'm going to take him out."

"Not alone. I can't allow you to do that, especially after your last encounter with him."

"With all due respect sir, I'm the one who knows him the best, it would be easier as well as faster for me to go and get him."

"I know you have a vendetta against him, but I forbid you to go alone."

Natasha wasn't backing down.

"Let Natalia take him out then. She can do it and she'll make it last."

Fury frowned. The others, aside from Clint, all just looked confused.

"Natalia Romanova is as dead as Shostakov will be. Romanoff, you go with your team or I ground you from this mission. And if Natalia is indeed making an appearance again, we won't hesitate to take her to the cells where she belongs."

His threat made her step down and she returned to stand beside Clint.

"She's not sir. She's dead."

"Good. Now, here are your information packs. You leave immediately."

He passed out the files before leaving, an agent showing up to take them to the hanger.

Clint touched Natasha's arm, giving her a quick hug and murmuring for her to just breathe. They had a long flight and he didn't want her to be fuming the whole way.

Sat on the plane, there was an uncomfortable silence as the team memorized the file in their hands. It was Tony who broke it.

"So, Natashalie. What happened in there?"

Natasha glowered at Tony but a nudge in the ribs from Clint made her sigh. She supposed it was for the good of the team for them to know the history between her and Alexei Shostakov.

"He was my husband."

The reactions on their faces varied from shocked to indifferent.

"The Red Room forced me to marry him. They told me it would build character if I did. I was fourteen and I was in love with this tall and handsome man who was an expert in hand-to-hand combat and gun control. He was my mentor and he became so much more. So I married him."

She sighed when she remembered how immature she had been. Sure, she loved Clint now, but it hadn't been a feeling she had jumped into, not like she had with Alexei. She had been nothing but a naïve little girl when she had married the Russian.

"Two years later and I was told he had been killed in action on a mission. I was sad, devastated even, but the Red Room helped me get over it. I pushed myself harder and became the best. I became the Black Widow, they granted me that title and I lived for my work. That is, until I found some files that had been hidden from me. Alexei had been murdered by my handlers because I had grown too attached."

Tony went to interrupt her, to point out that he wasn't actually dead, but another glower from her shut his mouth.

"I broke away from the Red Room, starting to go on solo missions of my own, paid ones that were personal to people. I was an assassin for hire and I just got on with things. That's when I stumbled across Alexei. He wasn't even dead. He was working for the KGB on another mission and had been forced to leave me for it. I wanted to kill him, because he had hurt me and because he was nothing to me anymore and unfortunately I didn't. I vowed he would end up dead though, by my hands and my hands only."

Her voice turned lower, taking on a slight Russian accent that she only gave into when angry, upset or tired.

"If any of you stand in my way, so help me god I won't hesitate to remove you from the situation. Clear?"

The Avengers could only nod as the flight descended back into silence.

They reached Budapest eight hours later. Everyone except Natasha had slept. She didn't need it, she just wanted to find Alexei, kill the bastard and go home. She was in full Black Widow mode and no one was going to stop her.

"His headquarters is an abandoned warehouse in the old industrial district. Apparently he has a load of hostages, according to our Intel." Clint informed the group, noticing how Natasha was in her own world but still listening. She was waiting for the moment she could break away and carry out the vendetta she did indeed carry, but Clint wasn't going to give her the chance. He would handcuff her to him if need be.

After the last time she had gone up against Alexei, Clint wasn't going to let her out of his sight. She had almost lost a leg and had almost bled out in his arms; he wasn't letting anything happen to her again. He would help her get her revenge, but he wouldn't do it at her expense.

"Widow, you follow orders. No going off without anyone. We will be watching you and remember you are tracked at all times. We will stop you." Clint hated being so direct and commanding over his wife, but it was only necessary. Steve had relinquished command to Clint, as the archer did know the most about the mission.

She just nodded but he could tell she wasn't being sincere. He looked to Tony who nodded before flipping down his Iron Man helmet. Jarvis had a lock on Natasha at all times and Tony could easily outrun her in his suit. They wouldn't let her get anywhere alone, unless the mission called for it. That was their last resort, however.

"Tonight we're to stakeout, find out his routine and get to know the building inside out. We have the inside plans but we need to learn the entrances and exits, the way the security is made up and any other important information that will prevent us from being compromised. We will split into groups. Widow, you're with me. I'm keeping an eye on you myself. Captain, Bruce, you'll take the lower ground. Iron Man, you sweep the perimeter."

Luckily the surrounding area was all forest. It was easy for them to hide without being seen, even Tony. Tony had switched his suit to a darker one, one that could easily be camouflaged in amongst the trees and the cover of the night sky.

They team split up. It was going to be a long night.


	8. Chapter 8

I had fun with this one! Plot twist to finish and an update will be coming your way soon...

Italics = Russian.

Disclaimer: The Avengers aren't mine, I'll be returning them when I'm finished.

* * *

They were alone at the top of the slope that the warehouse rested on, hidden safely in the undergrowth. Armed with binoculars – not that Clint needed any – and their weapons, they were ready for a night that would hopefully turn out to be useful to their mission.

Clint wanted to have a word with his wife first.

"Tasha. Listen to me. I know how much you hate Alexei but you have to understand why I can't let you just go rushing in there alone."

She was silent, her eyes never faltering from the warehouse. They narrowed at his words but that was the only movement they made.

"Natashenka… please." His soft voice, having suddenly changed from the harsh leader-like tone he had been speaking with only moments before, made her turn her head to him. "I can't have it end up like last time. I can't be left to worry about you for weeks after this mission, worrying whether you're going to ever open your eyes again. You can't do that to me."

His voice shook and it made her feel like the worst person in the world.

"Promise me we won't walk away without him dead. I can't live knowing he's still out here. Promise me he'll die and I'll promise I won't leave your side unless I need to."

He could only nod, his eyes speaking the promise for him and Natasha nodded in return.

They turned their gazes back to the warehouse, sitting there and waiting for something to happen, gathering all of the information they needed.

Steve and Bruce were sat at the opposite end of the land the warehouse was sat on. Things were pretty quiet for them, not a lot happening as the hours passed by.

"I've never seen Natasha like that before." Bruce's voice was a quiet murmur, as though he was scared that someone in the warehouse would be able to hear him, despite knowing that there wasn't actually anyone there.

Steve chuckled slightly.

"I now understand why she's called the Black Widow. She's on a mission to kill her ex-husband. It's basically what the female spiders do, right?"

Bruce allowed himself a smile at the Captain's words.

"I really hope she kills him, otherwise she'll be a nightmare to live with." Bruce liked Natasha, he liked spending time with her and the conversations they would have over coffee in his lab. But he wasn't one who wanted to face the Black Widow's wrath, knowing how deadly she could be. Steve nodded in agreement. He prayed for all their sakes that she was successful. He hadn't ever seen her in full Widow mode and he didn't want to. Tonight was as close as he wanted to ever get to the heartless killer known as Natalia Romanova.

A gunshot whipped their heads back around to the warehouse. The communicator in their ears crackled to life and Clint's voice was heard.

"You hear that guys?"

"Copy, Hawk. Who shot at who?"

Tony's voice crackled over next.

"Yeah, they shot at me. Missed but they know we're here."

"Shit!" Clint wasn't happy. Natasha was smiling.

"I see Shostakov. Permission to take the shot?"

"Negative Widow, denied." Clint's voice was heard talking to the girl sat beside him. "It's too much of a close call, he's too guarded. If you shoot him now we're compromised even more."

They heard the Widow sigh.

The team shrank back into the darkness, deeper in to the forest. No more shots came. They set up camp in a clearing that they found, their stakeout over early but they had all of the information they needed.

The next morning came sooner than they would have liked. None of them had gotten much sleep but they were raring to go and get the mission finished so they could return to New York as soon as possible.

Natasha had set up a bug close to the warehouse and listening to it back hours later revealed all of the dirty business Alexei was involved in. The team allowed her to translate, the Russian too flowing and fast for even Clint to pick up.

"He's been experimenting on children, testing performance enhancing drugs not unlike they one they gave me back then. He hopes to create the next generation of KGB girls." Her voice was low, the Russian accent seeping into it as she felt the anger rising up inside of her. The bastard was still working for the Red Room.

"Where is he now?" Bruce asked.

"Still inside. He has a couple of guards with him but the majority left around six am." Natasha's bug had caught the important information they had been after from their ruined stakeout.

"Okay." Steve had taken charge again. They had all the information, now it was time for a plan of action and he was the best at that. "Widow, I want you in there. Sneak in, shoot the guy and get out. We'll take out the guards and release the girls."

Natasha's face broke out into a long awaited grin before she checked her guns and her back up knives that were hidden on her person before sneaking off towards the warehouse. The others had to admit that she was very good at getting inside undetected. No one had a clue she was there.

"How does she - ?" Tony started.

"Air vents. I taught her that." Clint was smug and it showed on his face.

Her voice came over the communicators a few seconds later.

"I see the mark but he's surrounded by guards. If I shoot from this vent then I'm compromised. I need a distraction."

Clint grinned a smug grin again.

"Tash, it'll be my absolute pleasure."

She heard an explosion a few seconds later, smirking herself at the realisation that it was one of Clint's arrows. All hell broke loose, the guards ran out, leaving Shostakov alone.

It took her two seconds to drop from the air vent. He recognized her in one.

"_Hello Alexei. Miss me?"_

He smiled at the site of her, but now it wasn't something that made her swoon like the little girl once had.

"_Natalia, how nice of you to drop in."_

Her gun, which was pointed directly at his head, never faltered.

"_I'm going to kill you. I'm going to make you die slowly and painfully and I'm going to enjoy it."_

Alexei's smile turned to a grin. It reminded her of Loki's. It was unnerving though she refused to let it show.

She heard the others on her communicator, storming the place and taking out the guards. Alexei took a step towards her so she fired.

The bullet lodged itself in his shoulder, not a shot that would kill him outright but one that would allow him a slow and agonizing death. He hit the floor from the force of it. Natasha moved fast, straddling his waist in a way that prevented him from getting up, delivering punch after punch to his face. Her gun remained pressed to his temple, the barrel still hot from its last use.

"_I will make you scream until you beg for mercy like the worthless piece of shit that you are. I will take your life away just as you helped to take away mine. There will be no mercy, no one to save you… it will be just you, me and a bullet through your skull."_

The Russian underneath her only managed a chuckle. She punched him again. She didn't like that.

It was then that she looked down into his eyes. She hated making eye contact with a mark before she brought them to the last few moments of their life, and it was now that she realised they weren't the warm brown colour she had once fallen in love with.

They were electric blue.

The bullet shot through his brain faster than Natasha could yank on the trigger. She sat back, praying she had just been seeing things.

Her communicator erupted with her team asking if he was dead but she didn't hear them.

"Natasha?" From Tony.

"Tash?" From Clint.

"Widow? Do you copy?" From Steve.

A low, maniacal chuckle that she had heard once before shot chills down her spine. She twisted around from her position on the floor and almost threw up when she laid eyes on the figure standing in the doorway.

"I've been compromised." Was all she could get out on her communicator, the rest of the team demanding to know what was wrong.

"It's him. It's Loki…"

Her line went dead.

* * *

I wasn't even expecting that when it came out of my keyboard...


	9. Chapter 9

Sorry it's taken me so long to update this. Unfortunately my attempt at NaNoWriMo this year has ground to a halt because of my university work. Don't worry, I'm still writing this! It just might take me a little longer to update than the previous chapters. Thank you for all the favourites and follows and reviews! I read every single one of them and I love them!

Disclaimer: The Avengers aren't mine.

* * *

As soon as Natasha's words had registered in Clint's mind, he was running out of the room he was in and down the corridor. He had the building's layout memorized from the information packet they had been given and he knew where the office that Natasha had gone to was. When he reached it, he had his bow drawn with an arrow loosed in it, ready to shoot. Steve, Tony and Bruce were close behind, Bruce wearing a pair of black military trousers that had come from one of the guards they had killed.

The room was empty and the only person inside was the dead body of Alexei, his brains blown all over the walls.

Clint angrily let the arrow he had nocked fly into the wall, where it stuck jutted out from the wood.

"Fucker! Where is she?"

The others weren't sure how to approach Clint, knowing the relationship the two had was special. Not one of them knew their relationship went as far as marriage.

The archer reached up to his communicator, shouting angry words down it to whoever was on the other end back at SHIELD.

"Romanoff is fucking gone! It was a fucking set up! Loki's back and he has her!"

Whoever was on the other end was trying to calm him down but Clint wasn't having any of it.

"You're sending us a plane and we're going to find her. Now!"

Tony walked forward, his metal hand gently touching Clint's shoulder. Clint whirled back and Tony let go of the archer in defence.

"I can track her Legolas. I put a chip in everyone's suits and Jarvis can get a lock on it. Give me a few minutes and I'll know where she is."

"Get fucking on it then!"

Everyone knew that Clint wasn't being rude on purpose. He was being threatened with the loss of the one person he was closest to, who meant more to him than anyone else. It was understandable.

There was a tense silence as they waited for Jarvis' results to come through.

"I've got her! About 10 miles east of here."

Clint was out the door before Tony could finish talking, but Tony flew after him, leading the way seeing as he was the only one with the visual map.

It took them to a ditch in the forest. Clint jumped in quickly, desperate to find his wife. She wasn't there. The only thing he found was her suit and her now empty guns.

Loki was smart.

Clint couldn't believe this was happening to him. They had been partners for nearly ten years and nothing like this had ever happened before, she had never been taken away from him. He supposed there was a first time for everything and he knew that Natasha was perfectly capable of surviving torture and captivity – she had been trained for it. But not when a demigod was doing it to her.

Her words echoed in his head.

_This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for._

The sound of a plane up ahead made Clint look up. SHIELD had scrambled a jet for him and he was glad for that. He heard the director in his ear over the communicator line.

"Find her Barton. She's our best."

"I will sir. I won't rest until I have her back and that fucker has an arrow through his eye socket."

He boarded the jet and sat in the pilot's seat like a man on a mission. Tony was his co-pilot, a spot Natasha always took, and Clint reminded himself that it was only because Tony had a way of scanning for Loki. The face trace was happening through the SHIELD software that had been installed in the newest version of the Iron Man suit. Tony had almost declined the offer of having it added, thinking he would never need it, but now he was glad he had it available.

"We'll find her Clint."

"We better had. Keep your eyes on that screen."

Tony didn't argue. He had grown fond of the feisty spider that had been living among them for the last few months. He had been attracted to her as Natalie Rushman and had grown to respect her as Natasha Romanoff. Although he was sure that some portion of that respect was made up of fear for how many different ways she could kill him using nothing but her pinkie finger.

They had been in the air for four hours when Clint found himself too tired to continue the flight. He had just been flying around the area, all over Budapest, looking for somewhere Loki would go. Jarvis was still searching and they were only at sixty percent done.

Clint hated to land the jet in a clearing, but he had no choice. He took a couple of sleeping pills, knowing there would be no way he would be able to sleep naturally without Natasha in his arms, and let himself drift into a dreamless slumber.

He awoke early, surprised to see Tony already up and sipping a mug of steaming coffee from the on board machine.

"Rise and shine Legolas. Jarvis got a trace about an hour ago and it's held solid, so we know he's at least stopping there for a bit. It's a face trace too, so it's no one else."

Clint was at the controls faster than Tony could blink or offer him the second mug of coffee he had made. He woke up the others and joined Clint in the cockpit, Jarvis feeding the directions into the jet directly. That way, no errors could be made. Tony didn't fancy an arrow through his skull.

Natasha moaned quietly as she allowed herself to finally come out of the darkness that had swallowed her. She couldn't move, her body bound tightly to the wooden chair she was sat in. Her head hurt like hell and she was sure she had a lump on the side of it from where something had struck her. It wasn't a feeling that she hadn't felt before but she still didn't enjoy the feeling. It was something she tolerated, but as soon as she could she would get her revenge on whoever had put her in this position.

The memories came flooding back as she came to her senses. Shooting Alexei, seeing the blue in his eyes that reminded her of someone from her recent past and then realising that Loki was back and that he was the reason she remembered that horrible colour. Footsteps behind her made her twist her head and she glared at the demigod that stood in the doorway.

"Oh Agent Romanoff, there's no need for that look."

Loki stepped towards her, Natasha unable to keep her eyes on him as he approached from behind. She tried to shift in the chair, hopping a little, but it barely moved across the dirty stone floor.

"I'm here as a friend, as a balm. And you're going to co-operate."

By now he was stood directly behind her and his hand reached out, his long pale fingers running down the soft skin of her cheek. As much as Natasha wanted to flinch, she didn't. She wasn't planning on giving him the satisfaction. The fact that he mirrored the words he had said to her back on the helicarrier sent shivers down her spine and she could barely stop herself from showing it.

"And if I don't?"

Her words were stone cold and monotone – no emotion. She was in Black Widow mode. The amount of times she had found herself in this position was laughable, but this was the first time she had ever been held by a demigod.

Loki chuckled a low, disturbing laugh, and his hand suddenly grabbed her hair and yanked her head back to look at him. From where she now saw him, he was upside down. She was breathing heavily through clenched teeth at the pain the position was causing her, not crying out. She was tougher than that. Her green eyes, however, couldn't help but widen as she watched his sceptre appear in his hand from out of nowhere.

She hated that sceptre more than she hated him. That was what had taken Clint away from her. It had turned him into a loyal follower of the warped Asgardian. It could brainwash her too just as easily and that was another thing she feared more than anything. In the Red Room her mind had been twisted and moulded over and over again until she had no idea who she had originally been. She didn't even remember her birthday – she had no idea what year she had been born in. Her and Clint had chosen a date when she had been brought in almost ten years ago, but she longed to know the truth. It would never come for her though and she had accepted that.

The sceptre glowed blue but Loki didn't move it towards her. He let go of her hair and her head rolled to one side, Natasha watching him out of the corner of her eyes.

"It would be far too easy to take you under control like I did to him. No… no. I have far greater plans for you."

It was only now that Natasha realised how she was set up. She was in her underwear – her usual black lace – and tied to the old wooden chair in exactly the same way she had been when Clint had come to kill her all those years ago in Russia.

"You're a sick bastard!"

He just laughed at the way she spat her words at him. He realised she had finally caught on.

"When I took Barton's mind, he told me everything I wanted to know. I saw all of the memories you two shared. This one was one that stood out in particular. Why on earth did he save you? He could have just planted that arrow in your heart and left, but instead he took you back with him. Why is that?"

Natasha didn't answer. She didn't know the answer herself. She had never asked Clint his reasons; she had never dwelled on it and had trusted his judgement. If anything she was thankful that he hadn't ended her life. He had shown her that there was so much more to the world than the sheltered life she had lived in the Red Room. He had put right so many of the lies she had been fed.

"You don't know. So I thought, why not ask him?"

Her green eyes flashed in anger. How dare he use her to lure Barton here.

"You do remember the plans I discussed with you, don't you Agent Romanoff?"

_I won't touch Barton. Not until I make him kill you, slowly, intimately, in every way he knows you fear. And then he'll wake just long enough to see his good work. And when he screams, I'll split his skull._

Loki stood and watched as realisation washed over the assassin's face. She began to struggle against the ropes that held her to the chair. Usually by now she would have slipped her arms out and snapped her captive's neck. But Loki had learned about her from Clint and Clint knew all of her strengths and weaknesses. Loki had tied her in the only way she couldn't release herself from.

Her mind was in overdrive, trying to think of some way to get out of this alive and relatively unscathed.

"I found the tracking device implanted into your suit. I disposed of it. Having your friends turn up too soon would spoil all of my fun. "

He scowled when Natasha refused to reply. She kept her head down, indignantly staring at her feet. His hand struck her face with a crack. She lifted her head slowly, her cheek now a stark red.

"You will look at me when I am speaking!"

Natasha did nothing but spit in his face. He slapped her again, disgusted. She turned her head and spat out a little blood, scowling at her captor.

He really was a revolting man.

"Poshel na khuy." Her voice was deeper when she spoke her native tongue. The 'fuck you' was harsh and she meant every word.

She knew her fellow Avengers were on their way. The way that Clint worried about her often made her roll her eyes. He would fall into a blind panic of she wasn't found within a few hours. He had once threatened to kill Director Fury because the director was willing to mark her file as 'missing in action' instead of sending out a search and rescue. Coulson had been forced to take Clint's bow and quiver away until they had a lock on her position. He had gone stir crazy without both his weapons and his wife.

Loki's face showed a hint of a frown. He hadn't understood her words and Natasha almost allowed herself a smug smirk – though she decided not to show anything on her face instead.

From then on, every word she spoke was in Russian. To say that Loki was annoyed was an understatement, but Natasha preferred him that way. She felt as though she still had an upper hand against him. They obviously didn't teach Russian on Asgard.

The Russian words went on for hours. After three hours, Loki decided enough was enough and stormed over to where his captive still sat. He grabbed her by the throat, fully intending to do what Barton had not back on the helicarrier. Natasha was gasping for air as he squeezed, but her eyes showed no fear. She stared him down, her green eyes locked on his icy blue ones.

He let her drop.

She hit the floor, her chair tipped on its side now, the assassin gasping to catch her breath and fill her lungs with the oxygen she had briefly been deprived of. Loki walked away, leaving her there for now. Spots danced in front of her vision, her head span and her chest burned. She let herself succumb to the darkness that was pulling her under once again. His deep chuckle was the last thing she heard.


	10. Chapter 10

Unfortunately I didn't finish NaNoWriMo this year. University just got too much to handle so I focused on that instead of this. But I am still writing this, just at a slower pace now that I'm finishing up for Christmas. Here's chapter 10, I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: The Avengers aren't mine.

* * *

Her eyes opened to find herself in the same position, still on her side on the dirty floor. A quick scan of the room showed she was alone and she couldn't hear anything or anyone nearby. She was completely alone and for once, she hated it.

Usually Natasha liked her solitude. She had never been particularly good at socialising, unless it was to get under someone's skin before she killed them. But recently, from spending time with the other Avengers, Natasha had warmed to having others around her. Now, being alone left her feeling slightly unsettled. But as long as she wasn't alone with Loki, she was slightly happy.

She was left alone for what felt like forever. In reality it was three hours.

A low voice drew her attention away from the thoughts she had escaped to. Loki was back. She could only see his feet from where she lie on the floor, his boots stepping closer to her and his green and gold robes swishing around his feet.

"Your friends draw close. They will be joining us in approximately one hour. That leaves us plenty of time to have some fun."

She visibly shivered at his words and goose bumps appeared across her porcelain flesh as he reached out and stroked a hand down her cheek. She wanted to bite it off. In a flash his hand had moved to grab the ropes that bound her to the chair and he lifted her from the ground. She struggled again, unable to move much except from side to side. He was stronger than he looked and he was using that to his advantage. Right now the Black Widow was helpless and she was disgusted at herself.

He dropped her back down and luckily the chair landed on its feet, Natasha was upright once again.

"If you were to speak in a language I understood we could have a perfectly nice conversation. I would tell you everything I had planned for you, for your partner and for your friends."

"You won't do anything to them!" She spat, unable to stop her English outburst. It earned her a grin from the Trickster God, one that slowly spread across his face in a hideous manner that made the assassin grimace.

"Oh but I will. But first, we're alone together. The tables have turned Agent Romanoff. It is now you who will co-operate. Can I call you Natasha? Agent Romanoff is far too formal for my liking."

She just spat in his face once again. His grin turned into disgust as he reached up and wiped her saliva from his cheek with the back of his hand. He then leaned down, his face not even inches from hers, and planted a kiss on her lips. Natasha was tempted to bite his lips off, but knowing him he would twist her actions into some kind of disgusting foreplay.

The kiss was thankfully over quickly and she prayed she wouldn't have to suffer another.

His hands moved to detach the ropes from her chair, but the way she was bound still prevented her from moving enough to take him down. How she longed to break his neck with her thighs, surely not even a demigod could survive having his neck broken.

Loki dragged her to the other side of the room and threw her down. She grunted as she hit the concrete, certain she would have some serious bruising from the impact later.

"When I had the pleasure of occupying Barton's mind I learned a lot about you. You, my dear, fascinated me. I was able to access an area he kept hidden in the back of his mind, something he tried to fight me on. It gave me so much information. Knowledge is power.

Tell me, Natalia. Do you remember this man?"

Loki's sceptre appeared out of nowhere and he lifted it. A man appeared beside him and Natasha's eyes widened. She knew she shouldn't show fear, but as of right now, she wasn't Natasha Romanoff. She was the terrified child that had been Natalia Romanova. Loki's evil grin had returned. While Natasha tried to remind herself that it was nothing more than an illusion, just seeing the man who had caused her so much pain once again made her feel sick.

The man stepped forward and Natasha tried to shuffle back. Loki walked back over and surprisingly, cut her ropes. Natasha now had the full advantage of using her deadly limbs but she found herself frozen to the spot. Fear was attacking every muscle and she couldn't move. She knew it was irrational, but inside her head she found herself reliving every moment of pain in her childhood that had been caused by this man.

His name was Ivan Petrovich. He had taken her to the Red Room the night her parents had died. She had been just five years old and she had resented him from the moment he had forced a gun into her hands. He had been the person who had made her kill her first victim, one of her Red Room friends, at the tender age of six. He had been the one who had taught her seduction techniques – he had beaten all sentiment out of her when it came to stripping off and getting into bed with anyone deemed necessary to the mission. She had suffered greatly at this man and had thought she was free of him when Clint had taken her away to SHIELD.

This might have been nothing but an illusion, yet the demons rearing their ugly heads sure weren't. Natasha found herself screaming as she watched everything all over again but then it changed. It was the present day; here she was in this cold and barren room with Loki and Ivan. Ivan was grabbing her, his large muscular hands gripping into her soft flesh, pinning her down and sending fist after fist into her body. She was unable to fight back or do anything other than let him hurt her. She tried, oh how the Black Widow tried. But her body wouldn't do what her brain wanted to and it wasn't down to any brainwashing by Loki. No. It was purely out of fear. Emotion was undoing her, just like Ivan had told her nearly twenty-three years ago.

Loki was almost dancing with glee as he watched the Black Widow, the mighty assassin, curl up into a tight defensive ball. She was shaking, worse than she had when confronted with the Hulk, and was muttering to herself in Russian. Occasionally she would scream. In reality, nothing was happening. But inside her mind, she was slowly and painfully being undone. This was revenge, Loki thought. She had tricked him before, on board the helicarrier, so now he was returning the favour.

"_Natalia. You have failed. You did not successfully kill whom we needed you to kill. He is alive… only just, but he is alive."_

"_I'm sorry! Please Sir, it won't happen again!"_

"_You need to be taught a lesson. You will kill when we tell you to kill! Do you need your head straightening out again, Natalia?"_

_He stepped towards her and grabbed her by her hair. It was long and its natural shade of a light blonde. The red hair dye hadn't been forced onto her until much later. He dragged her kicking and screaming body over to the corner, where he handed her to a man in a mask. This man was also a big one. Muscular and imposing, he too towered over her, just like Ivan did._

_Ivan had been in the military. He was a man who more muscle than anything else. He was built like a tank and had his fair share of battle scars. The most prominent one was across his right eye. The cowering girl he had just handed over had given it to him when he had forced himself upon her. In order to teach her the art of seduction to get the information they needed, he had been the one to show her that completing sexual favours for a mark was nothing to be afraid of. What Natalia had thought of as an act done by two people who loved each other had quickly been transformed into yet another weapon in her growing arsenal._

_Strong hands gripped her body as she was taken from the room. A small doctor's office awaited her, full of stainless steel equipment. The white walls were splattered with stale blood that was browning from age. Hers would shortly be joining it. Natalia was strapped down, still screaming even when they forced a metal helmet on top of her blonde head. She stared up with wild eyes, knowing what was coming. She was about to forget anything personal, any relationships she had with anyone. Her mind would be taken and anything deemed unimportant would be shocked out. She would be left a shell of what she once was, even more of a monster with no conscience._

Strong hands touching her body made Natasha scream louder than she ever had before. While Loki's actions had been in her mind, she had not actually felt anything physically. Now this touch was physical, it was enough to make her believe that she was indeed back in the Red Room. She thrashed out at whoever was there, delivering a perfect right hook to their face, which was blurry and featureless in her clouded vision. Her eyes stung of tears that were streaming down her colour-drained cheeks and her screams drowned out all sound.

Clint Barton had burst through the door about ten minutes ago, not that Natasha Romanoff would know. Loki had been surprised, as the Avengers had been ahead of his schedule after some clever speeding done on the jet, and it was this that had allowed them to subdue him so quickly and easily. He had tried to put up a fight, but Bruce had hulked out and refused to let go of the 'puny god' once he had his fist wrapped around him. Loki knew better than to mess with the Hulk.

She felt her body get lifted and tugged against someone else's so she lashed out. She kicked and she punched, desperate to get away from the person who – in her mind – was causing her harm. Clint grunted as her foot connected with his ribs and a punch to his face caused him to involuntary drop her from the force, his nose spitting blood. He turned to the god who was still smirking at what he was seeing, Clint seething anger.

"What are you doing to her?"

Loki grinned.

"I've taken her down a trip to memory lane, she's reliving some fond memories from her childhood."

His tone was calm but had scathing undertones. Clint's eyes narrowed in disgust before he turned back to Natasha. The redheaded Russian was cowering away from everyone, still screaming and shaking. How she desperately wished she had a gun to defend herself.

"Make it stop!"

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be much fun now, would it Agent Barton?"

One squeeze from the Hulk and Loki relented. The images in Natasha's mind faded and she was no longer in the doctor's office with Ivan and the man in the surgical mask. She was back in the room she had been in before and this time, the Avengers were there with her.

Clint waited until she peeked up from hiding her face in her knees, her green eyes flitting from one person's face to the next.

"No… no. You're not real. Loki stop it! Make it stop!"

Her cries this time made Clint bite his lip and his heart sink. She still thought Loki was creating illusions.

"Tasha, you're not in the Red Room anymore and we're not illusions. We're –"

Her screaming cut him off and this time her screams were out of anger instead of fear.

"No! He would make you say that! This is all a trick! Fine, you win Loki! Just fucking kill me already, I can't take this anymore!"

Clint looked at Loki with a glare on his face, silently demanding for the demigod to reveal the truth to Natasha. All he got in return was a smirk. The demigod wasn't going to do anything to help. He loved this.

All the group could do was watch as the Black Widow dissolved right in front of their eyes. Her anger turned to upset and she just collapsed back into a ball, sobbing into her arms. Clint took this opportunity to slowly inch forward and kneel beside her, scooping her up into his arms once again. He made sure his actions were slow and gentle, so as not to startle her, before beginning to make his way out of the door to where the jet was waiting outside.

* * *

I was a little unsure about this chapter. Especially the way it ended. Thoughts? Please let me know!


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